The Sixth Year
by lesbiansdoITbetter
Summary: Sequel to Five Years Later. Gretchen and Peter are trying frantically to save Claire from Elle, but ... will they be too late? Adult themes: Rated Mature. I can not stress this enough: Adults only this time!
1. Chapter 1

The Sixth Year: Chapter One

Gretchen is following Peter down a narrow hallway, in yet another abandoned building, in search of a man known as One-Eyed Jack. Having been tipped off by another evolve that this man might know something about Claire's whereabouts, they have been chasing him for weeks. But, Jack is a sly one, and doesn't want anything to do with _this war_ anymore.

He _used_ to be Peter's inside man, and was the telepath he had used to uncover the information regarding Claire's impending future. But, at about the same time Claire had been abducted in Havana, Jack had inexplicably cut off communication with Peter. Rumor amongst the other evolves said that Jack had been caught by Elle, revealed as a traitor to her, and tortured beyond belief before somehow escaping. Which would explain his reluctance to be found now.

Poor One-Eyed Jack was running from _both_ sides now, not that Gretchen felt the least bit sorry for _him_. Lately, she hadn't been feeling sorry for _anyone_, save Claire.

She hasn't seen Claire in almost a year, and Peter has been doing _nothing_ but searching for her, in any way he can. In fact, now that she thinks about it, she kind of feels sorry for him too. In his determination to keep Stephanie safe and out of the fray, he has barely seen her as well. She has flown with them occasionally, when the need has arisen, but ... other than that, Peter has been like a cowboy out on trail. He has even gone so far as to grow facial hair, in his distraction to locate his niece.

And Gretchen has changed a lot in a year herself. At least, she'd like to think so. She has been training intensively with Hiro, learning all she could about martial arts and self-defense, and has even learned how to wield a samurai sword pretty effectively. And, although he is a very strict and disciplined teacher, she knows that Hiro is _proud_ of her, which is the greatest motivation of all. She feels much more confident than she did a year ago, and holds her head a little higher these days.

She even managed to stop crying herself to sleep every night ... about four months ago. The pain finally manifested itself into an intense and constant anger instead, and has been burning inside her ever since. Now, when she lays her head down at night, instead of seeing Claire trapped inside some lonely cage, she sees Elle's face melting like hot wax under her defiant glare. She knows what Elle looks like now. Peter's shown her more pictures of that bitch's face than she even cares to remember.

_That bitch is going to burn, one way or another. Burn, bitch, burn!_

Still, occasionally, the old Gretchen does pop up. There have been times during the past year when she has frozen in place out of fear, or cried uncontrollably at really inappropriate moments. But, for the most part, she has been too busy thinking about finding Claire to feel afraid ... _or_ sad. On most days, she feels like nothing more than a heat-seeking missile: intent on one, singular target ... and completely emotionless.

This is not to say that Claire has not been the most ever-present thought on her mind. She undeniably _has_. But, with Hiro's help, Gretchen has learned to channel that into positive energy.

Although sometimes, like _now_ for instance, when it is starting to feel like they are _this close_ to finding her, Gretchen does tend to get a little more freaked out than usual. Peter has come up against Jack before, only to be mind-fucked by him each and every time. This time, Peter claims he's built up resistance, but ... Gretchen isn't so sure about that. And, because Peter will be so busy trying to hold back Jack's ability, it will be all up to _her_ to do the interrogating ... if they ever even _find_ Jack.

"Why do they always hide in these _damn buildings_?" she asks Peter, trying her best to keep up with him.

Peter glances back at her and smiles. "Wouldn't you, if you were trying to hide from me?"

"I'd go to _Antarctica_, if I were trying to hide from _you_," she replies.

Peter huffs a laugh and walks on, intent again on the mission ahead. As they turn a corner, they fall into silence again, both feeling that Jack could be nearer than they think.

And, sure enough, at the end of a long corridor, they spot something dart away from them to the left. Peter races towards it at lightening speed, leaving Gretchen in the dust.

"Great," she sighs to herself. "I hate it when he does that."

She picks up her own pace and follows their trail, finally finding them standing toe to toe in a standoff at the end of another long hallway. One-Eyed Jack, dressed in his typical bum costume, is struggling to take over Peter's mind as usual ... just long enough so that he can escape again. But, this time, Peter is not giving in so easily. Gretchen can see the look of sheer concentration on Peter's face, and knows she doesn't have much time.

"Why are you running from us, Jack?" Gretchen demands to know. "We can help you. We've helped others."

"You can't even help _yourself_," grumbles Jack in response, not taking his eye off Peter. Jack is a gruff looking man in his fifties, but the salvation army clothes he wears (and hardly ever washes) cause him to appear much older. He wears a patch over his missing eye, which was taken from him during a bar brawl when he was only 23 years old. But his appearance does not frighten Gretchen.

He has never once _hurt_ Peter or herself, and doesn't seem to intend to. He only freezes Peter's abilities long enough to escape, and he has never even attempted to enter Gretchen's mind. Of course, with Peter being an empath, this trick was never going to work forever anyway.

Surely Jack must have _known_ that.

"Jack, please," says Gretchen, stepping forward cautiously. "I know you don't want to hurt us, and we don't want to hurt you either. We just want to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," he insists. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I just want to be left alone!"

"Fine," replies Gretchen. "Tell us where Claire is, and we won't bother you again. I promise."

"If I tell you, she'll _know_," Jack says. "She knows everything!"

"Who?" asks Gretchen. "Elle? Jack, you don't have to be afraid of her. Come with us, and we'll protect you."

"Like you've protected Claire?" he asks, laughing nervously. "No thanks!"

"We're trying to _save_ Claire," Gretchen tells him through gritted teeth, trying to hold back her impatience. "That's why we've been chasing you. Just tell her us where we can find her, and we will protect you ... _I swear._"

"You'll never get her out of there," he laughs. "Even if you could get _in_. She's Elle's most prized possession right now. It would be like trying to sneak out all the gold at Fort Knox!"

"Is she _pregnant_?" Peter chimes in, still working his voodoo.

Jack gives Peter an unsettling smile. "Not yet, mate. But ... not from a lack of trying."

"What do you mean?" Peter asks, furrowing his brows.

"I mean to say that Elle has been trying to achieve _just that_," Jack tells him, suddenly letting go of Peter's mind. He exhales a deep breath, as if exhausted, and says, "and in the most horrific ways imaginable ... I wouldn't even want to describe ... what I saw through that girl's eyes."

Gretchen closes her own eyes for just a moment and counts to ten, holding her breath in the process.

Peter relaxes his body, also exhausted from fighting with Jack's mind, and steps forward with a cautious but curious expression. Gretchen doesn't want to know; doesn't _need_ to know right now, but Peter obviously can't help himself.

"What did you _see_, Jack?" he asks carefully.

"Elle Bishop is one sick little pup," Jack tells him, an earnest look in his eye. "And she's got an unhealthy fascination with your niece. Which is why you should not attempt to rescue her. Elle will never let you get near her newest toy without a _nasty_ fight."

"What do you mean ... _toy_?" Gretchen suddenly says, unable to stay mute another second.

"Oh, darlin'," replies Jack with a sigh. "I think you know what I mean. Do I really have to spell it out for ya'? I mean that Elle has been using the artificial insemination sessions as an excuse to further _torment_ Claire. She knows that Claire can't feel _physical_ pain, so she is using every _other_ form of pain at her disposal."

"You mean ..." Peter begins, but Gretchen holds up a hand to stop him.

Her stomach is churning suddenly, as if she could heave at any second.

"_Stop_," she insists, clutching at her stomach. "Please. I ... get the picture, okay? Please, just tell us where we can find her, Jack. _Please_ ... I'm begging you."

Jack looks at her with unmistakable sympathy in his eyes. "All right," he sighs after a brief pause. "But ... she will be ready for us. She has eyes and ears everywhere."

"With _your help_, we can be ready too," Peter tells him. "You're a powerful telepath, Jack. Come on ... don't you want to get back at Elle for the hell she's put you through? Help us, and I promise you'll get that chance."

Gretchen grits her teeth, her eyes burning with fury. "Not if I get to her _first_," she reminds them both.

*****************

Claire has been Elle Bishop's prisoner now for almost a year. Although, Claire cannot really be sure of what time has _passed_ ... she can only guess. She still isn't even sure where she _is_, exactly. And, she hasn't seen a single sunrise or sunset since she arrived. There are no windows in her cell, and she has never been transfered.

Perhaps, if her hands had ever been freed, she would have started marking down days somehow, but ... Elle has had her in shackles since day one. In the beginning, Claire had made one escape attempt, breaking both of her own wrists and ankles in order to wiggle _out_ of the shackles. But, only finding this attempt amusing, Elle had just put her back in the restraints again ... this time locking her neck against the metal sheet they called her bed with a heavy, steel collar.

And this was the state she still found herself in now ... laying on a cold metal slab, her wrists and ankles clasped against the sides, and her neck pinned down by the unyielding collar. A few times, when Elle's torture had become overwhelming to her, she had considered trying to break her own neck as well. She knew that this might mean the end for her, as resetting it would take time, and Elle didn't seem to like _waiting_ for things. But ... she still _considered_ it, once and awhile.

Upon her arrival a year ago, Elle had wasted no time in getting started with her plans. They had taken Claire to this room, which _would_ have appeared somewhat hospital-like, if not for the metal table they had strapped her to, sitting ominously in the center of the room. Around this table sat a variety of hospital type equipment, and frightening looking surgical tools. As they had locked Claire onto her eternal bed that day, she had peered at these tools with growing apprehension.

But, that fear paled in comparison to what she was about to _really_ face.

After Claire was securely locked into place, Elle had sent her minions away, giving Claire a devilish smile as they had shut the door behind them. Claire had spat at her in return, but Elle had only laughed and wiped it away with a cloth from her pocket.

"Reduced to _that_, are we?" Elle had asked her, coming to stand over her metal bed. "Tsk, tsk, Claire. I wouldn't be so daring if I were you ... you might upset me."

"_Fuck_ you, you crazy bitch!"

Elle laughed and ran a finger down the front of Claire's blouse. "I wouldn't invite me to do _that_ either," she warned, still smiling. "I mean, after all ... I was going to take it easy on you tonight, since it's your first time and all. I mean, I'm assuming this will take at least a _few_ attempts, don't you? These things usually do."

"What are you talking about?"

Elle withdrew her finger and walked over to a cabinet, which omitted a thin wisp of frost when she opened it. She reached in and pulled out a vile, which she brought back to Claire, waving it in her face.

"Know what this is?" she asked Claire.

Claire was pretty sure, but wasn't about to play games. "Go to hell," she told Elle, her green eyes alight with anger.

Elle laughed again and withdrew the vile, turning to do something on a counter beside the frozen cabinet. Claire tried to see what she was up to, but her back was turned.

"_This_, my dear Claire," she said, still turned away, "is the magical sperm that's going to get that little bun growing in your oven. And, when I thought about having some _doctor_ perform the insemination, I thought, _well, damn ... that won't be any fun_. I mean, how clinical and cold is _that_? Having a stranger stick you with sperm juice?"

Elle turned back around then, a large, plastic syringe in one hand. She grinned at Claire and said, coming closer, "I thought this might be a little more enjoyable for both of us if I performed it _myself_. And, while I _was_ going to take this session easy on you tonight, since it is your _first_ ... I'm afraid I can't promise I will _always_ be so gentle. For one thing, I can get really heartless when I'm made to wait ... and, for another ... well ...

I just kind of get off on the thought of _watching you squirm_."

"Why?" asked Claire, a lump in her throat.

"_Why_?" laughed Elle. "Oh, come now, Claire. Doesn't _everyone_ want to _fuck _you? The invincible girl? Little Miss Perfect ass? Little Miss _can-do-no-wrong_?"

"Elle ..." Claire had said softly, "You don't have to do this."

The look on Elle's face grew darker by the minute. "We're wasting time here, baby," she said. "Clock is ticking. Hear it? Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

"Please, Elle ..." Claire continued, beginning to tug at her wrists and ankles, instinctively trying to free herself.

"Oh no you don't," warned Elle, shaking her head.

Elle reached out her other hand and shot Claire with a jolt of electricity that seized her, making her immobile for the moment. Moving the hand slowly, Elle moved the electricity with it, shocking her legs and waist with increasing voltage. Claire was writhing uncontrollably on the table, but not out of pain. The electricity simply took over her body, shaking it like a rag doll. Soon, Claire's pants actually _caught fire_ from the voltage, and Elle stood back with a hoot of pleasure.

Claire watched in horror as the material of her jeans burned right before her eyes, turning into nothing but ashes. When the fire was out, her burned legs slowly began to heal, revealing her healthy pink flesh, and Elle came closer once again, the syringe at the ready.

"Handy little power I have, isn't it?" she asked with delight. "And between my power and your power, why ... we've managed to take your pants off without even _touching_ them. Brilliant, isn't it?"

"You are _sick_," Claire spat again.

"Possibly," Elle agreed, wiping it away again with her free hand. "But ... I'm so much _fun_, once you get to know me. You'll see, Claire. We're going to have so much fun together ... just you and I."

Elle placed the syringe between Claire's legs, which were already spread apart by the ankle cuffs, and ran it slowly along her naked thigh, leaning in so that her breath was tangible on her face. "The truth is ... I've wanted to fuck you all along, sweetheart," she told Claire. "But, it was only since the world turned against me that I've wanted to do _this_. Thank God this whole baby business came up, huh? I mean, what better excuse to really _give it_ to you?"

With her last four words, Elle suddenly jammed the syringe into Claire without care, causing Claire to gasp in surprise and horror.

Elle cackled with gratification, and pulled the syringe out, only to jam it back in again.

"That feel good, baby?" she asked with a demented purr.

Unable to process the horror that was happening to her, Claire began to cry for the first time in years. Tears streamed down her cheeks and fell from her chin.

"Stop, Elle ... please," she begged. "I'll do anything you want. Just ... _stop_, please!"

"_Anything_ I want?" asked Elle, jamming it in again, with as much force as possible. "Can you give me my _Daddy_ back? My childhood? Can you give back all the time I lost while I was hiding from _your_ father?"

"Please, Elle ... you don't have to do it this way. _Please_."

"Fuck you, you little brat," hissed Elle, continuing her tortuous task. "You know what I want? I want _you_, screaming your little perfect ass off ... _begging_ me to stop. Looks like we're off to a good start, wouldn't you say?"

And, this inseminational rape had continued, day after miserable day, getting worse and worse every time, until, eventually ... Claire had become numb to it. Perhaps that was why Elle became more and more sadistic each time, torturing her with her _words_ even more than with her hands. It was driving her mad ... the fact that Claire wasn't reacting anymore. She wanted to see more tears; wanted to hear more begging, but Claire would give her no more of it.

And now, still laying there a year later, strapped to the table that has become her own personal nightmare spot, she hears the door handle click, and opens her eyes wide.

Elle comes in alone, and opens the cabinet again, just as she always does, to pull out her precious vile of sperm.

"Last chance, baby," she tells her, turning with the vile in her hand. "If your body rejects this again, I'm going to have to turn to plan B. And ... you _really_ aren't going to like plan B."

Claire hasn't spoken a word in three months, so unwilling to give any sign of weakness to Elle. But now, she can't help wondering what Elle is talking about.

"What's plan B?" she asks, against her better judgement.

Elle grins wickedly, pleased to hear Claire's voice again. "Later, pet. For now ... we're going to have to take that hospital gown off again. And, I would at least _try_ to show some emotion this time, if I were you. After all, it may be our last time together like this, you know? And, well ... I could just take your eggs and let you die here of starvation, if I wanted to. Maybe if you give me what I want, I'll let you live to see your son born. What do you say, Claire?"

She sits the vile down and comes closer, waiting for a response.

Claire takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, praying for the first time in her life. She prays for God to strike Elle dead, and deliver her straight to hell.

"Please, Elle," she says softly, trying to sound as vulnerable as Elle wants her to be. "Don't hurt me."

Elle laughs and pulls at the strings of her gown, releasing the ties and allowing Elle's hands access inside. She runs a hand down her chest, along her stomach, and between her legs. "Louder, bitch!" she tells Claire, sticking two fingers inside of her.

Claire feels real tears come to her eyes, having never been violated before by anything other than the syringe. "Please, Elle!" she calls out, crying for real now. "Please, stop!"

Elle's breath is hot in her face as she continues to fuck Claire, her fingers pressing harder and harder into her flesh. "Yeah, baby ... that's it. _Beg_ me to stop."

Claire squeezes her eyes tight against the sight of Elle's crazy grin and prays again. This time, for something a little more tangible.

_Please, God, send Peter to save me. Please ... before I go as mad as her._

*to be continued ...*


	2. Chapter 2

*author's note: Thanks to both my gf and my buddy G for some of the ideas in the Sixth Year. Also, thanks to G for the use and future use of a character she created! You guys rock!*

The Sixth Year: Chapter Two

Peter, Gretchen, and One-Eyed Jack have flown to Moscow, via plane this time, having left as soon as Jack had revealed the location of Elle's secret lair to them. He said Elle was using an old soviet bomb shelter, 100 feet underground, that had once been intended for high-ranking soviet officials. During the cold war, in the event of a nuclear attack, they would have been taken there for their safety. Now, Elle Bishop was using it as her own personal torture palace, and Claire was her favorite victim.

Sitting across from Peter in a Moscow hotel room, at a small table by the window, Gretchen shudders at the thought of Claire under Elle's psychotic control. Nevertheless, with plans _finally_ drawn to extract her, and after a year of waiting, Gretchen is ready to face some hard truths.

Peter is lost in thought, staring down at his feet, when Gretchen finally clears her throat to get his attention.

He looks up and smiles apologetically.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks first.

He sighs, but his smile remains. "The obvious. Ways to get Claire the hell out of there, before Elle actually manages to finish this."

"You mean ... manages to get her pregnant?"

"Yeah," he says, his smile finally fading. "But ... don't think about that. Just focus on what we're here to do."

"Peter," she replies, leaning forward, "How can I _not_ think about that? How can I not think about a lot of things right now? Listen ... If I'm going in there with you, I think it's finally time you let me in on some of the _fuzzier_ details, okay? Like, for instance ... _whose sperm is Elle using to try and get my girlfriend pregnant?_"

Peter cocks his head, releasing another sigh. "You don't need to know that. Honestly, Gretch ... it would only make you more confused."

"Why do you and Hiro keep _saying_ that?" she asks, sitting up straighter, "That it would _only make me more confused_? It's like the two of you are reading off the same scripts."

"Well ... almost," he admits, after looking away shyly. "Hiro and I did kind of have a talk about it ... how much to tell you. I mean, you being so ... _different_ from us."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she asks.

"Oh," he replies, taking note of her tone, "I didn't mean anything _bad_ by that. I just meant ... that there's a lot of things you might not be able to _understand_ about what's going on."

Gretchen folds her arms defensively. "Try me."

"You sure?" he asks cautiously.

She shrugs at him. "Claire always trusted me to understand what was going on ... _eventually_. I think it's time you did too."

He sighs again and slumps in his seat. "The sperm belongs to a man named Sylar," he finally tells her, "Elle has him held captive also, although, no one seems to know where ... or how. He is the most powerful evolve out there, next to me. And, I can only imagine what kind of child he and Claire would create. Psycho or not, Elle is no fool. Having that baby would be like having a nuclear bomb."

"But ... you don't _have to_ imagine what that child would be like, _do you_, Peter?" Gretchen presses on, leaning forward again. "The painters have _seen_ it, right? Claire said it would be capable of destroying all evolves _everywhere_."

"That's what the _painters see_," he agrees, taking a deep breath. "But ... I've seen circumstances change what they've seen before. It doesn't have to happen. If we stop Claire from having this child in the first place ..."

"What if we don't?" Gretchen interrupts. "What will happen, Peter? What will_ he_ do? _What exactly do the painters see in their visions?_"

Now, Peter leans forward, his face set in a serious expression. "Her son will be very unique to our kind. Possibly a _first_, as far as anyone knows ... and it's scaring the hell out of _everyone_ ... except Elle. She sees his potential as a mechanized weapon, that can be wielded against those of us who stand against her. But ... from what I've heard, Elle_ should be _afraid of him as well. We _all _should."

"Why?" she questions. "What ability could anyone have that would scare even _you_, Pete? Please ... just tell me. I can deal with the truth."

"We don't quite understand it ourselves yet," he admits, rubbing his bristly chin. "Hiro has gone to Japan, to talk to someone who might be able to tell us more. But ... for now, all we know is that the painters see him as a ... well ... kind of _soul-sucker_."

"Excuse me, but ... did you just say _soul-sucker_?"

Peter laughs, running a hand down his face with a short yawn. "Yeah ... I know it sounds bizarre. It sounds bizarre to us too ... that's why Hiro's gone to Japan, to seek out this _monk_, who apparently knows more about it than we do."

"What gives anyone the idea that this kid is going to _suck souls_?" she wonders aloud.

"The paintings. Here ... let me show you ..."

Peter gets up and retrieves a duffle bag from under one of the beds, and pulls out a folder to give to her. She takes it, her hand shaking, and opens it up, Peter still standing over her.

Inside the folder, she finds a multitude of different paintings, sketches, and drawings. They are all in very different styles, but all contain the _exact same_ image:

A very young boy, barely old enough to walk, is standing before a group of people, his right hand held out to them. His hair is fair and blond. The group of people are wailing in pain, clutching at the air above them as shadow images of them leave their bodies, as if they are trying to hold on to the shadows, before they escape forever. Behind the boy stands two women, one is clearly Claire and the other is clearly Gretchen. They stand still, as if frozen, or ... are they simply_ allowing_ this soul-sucking to take place?

She shuts the folder and hands it back to Peter, closing her eyes for a moment. When she reopens them, he has sat back down and is giving her a warm smile.

"I told you," he says reassuringly, "This doesn't have to happen. If we can just get her out on time ..."

"What if we don't, Peter?" she asks again. "Why are Claire and I standing there doing _nothing_ to stop him? Is it because neither Claire nor I will be able to _kill_ him?"

"Gretch ..." he warns.

"He will be_ her child_, Peter!" she shoots back. "_Not_ Elle's. Don't you get that? Now ... I know Sylar's a madman. You don't have to tell me that. But, this soul-sucker will be _half Claire_ ... you know? What if he has _her eyes_? Or, _her smile_? What if he _laughs_ like her, Peter? Do you really think either one of us will be willing to _let him die_? Even if it means _losing the rest of you_?"

Peter's eyes grow wide with concern. "You see? This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Why _not_?" she laughs, out of shock. "Peter ... someone else is going to have to be prepared to _step in_ ... don't you see that? I don't even have to _look_ at these pictures to tell you _that_. If this kid is born, and Claire falls in love with him, as mothers _tend_ to do, then all bets are gonna be _off_. And that's not a threat, either. It's a _warning_. Do what you have to do. But ... don't let this kid _live_, even if he_ is_ born."

"You want _me_ to kill him ... if it comes to that?" he assumes, swallowing hard.

"Someone will _have_ to," she says softly. "And, what if you can't count on me or Claire to _do it_?"

He nods slowly, reluctantly agreeing with her. "But ... it _won't_ come to that," he assures her again, taking a deep breath. "I promise."

Interrupting their heart-to-heart, a knock comes at the door. Peter pops up to answer it, saying, "That should be Jack."

And it is. Jack comes inside ahead of Peter and takes a seat on the bed. He is cleanly shaven, and has showered ... finally. He has also allowed Peter to buy him some decent clothes, which he doesn't look too bad in. Peter looks both ways out in the hallway, then closes the door behind him.

"Did anyone follow you?" Peter asks.

"Nah, mate. Not a soul. Now, what's our plan? I take you'd like to go sooner, rather than later?"

"I'd like to go tonight, if we could," Peter suggests, rubbing his hands together. "The quicker we get to Claire, the less time Elle has to follow through with her plan."

"We can be there in an hour," Jack tells him, "If we rent a car."

"Who needs a car?" says Peter with a smile.

Jack smiles back, feeling foolish. "Oh, of course. I had forgotten your ability to fly the friendly skies. Then, make that a half hour ... or less. But, I'm more curious about what you plan to do when we _get there_."

"You will have to go into Elle's mind," Peter explains. "A scary place to be, I know ... but, it's our only chance. If you can immobilize _her_, then I can take out the rest of her crew, no problem. Then, you keep Elle in a mind-prison while we extract Claire. If you put your voodoo on her bad enough, we should all have enough time to get out before it wears off ... if it _ever_ does. Feel free to trap her forever, for all I care."

"Wouldn't mind if I do," he agrees, smiling at Peter with a chuckle. "Sounds like a solid plan."

"It's our _only_ plan," Gretchen tells him. "So it had better work."

"It _will_," Peter promises her, his smile a little weaker than she would like. "Try not to worry, okay? Just ... put your game face on. It's time to bring Claire back where she belongs."

* * *

Elle is standing in a room full of computers and t.v. screens, gazing through a large glass window that looks into another room, just a few feet below. This room is an exact replica of the room Claire is in, except that it's metal table stands _empty_ in the center of the room. The room Elle stands in is dark, but the one below it is well-lit, just as Claire's always is.

The large window that Elle looks through can be just as easily seen through from the other side, but, so far ... there is no one there to look back at her.

In a moment, the door to Elle's room opens, and Becky walks in, looking a little confused.

"Elle ... what are you doing in here?" she asks. "I thought you were going to meet me in the lab?"

"There's been a change of plans," says Elle, not bothering to turn her head. "The men in the white coats tell me that Claire will never carry a child. Her body rejects the embryo each time it tries to attach itself to her uterus. Her ability is reacting just as it would with a cancer cell ... expelling the invasive material."

"Then ... it's on to plan B?" Becky assumes.

"Everything's in place," Elle tells her, grinning from ear to ear. "The doctors are extracting Claire's eggs now, and Saint Peter is on his way with our precious Gretchen."

"Shall I prepare the Haitian?" asks Becky, raising an eyebrow.

Elle finally turns to look at her. "Absolutely," she replies, taking a few steps closer to Becky. Her blue eyes are brimming with lunacy, and Becky takes a small step away from her in response.

"Becky ..." says Elle, narrowing those crazy blue eyes at her. "You're not starting to have second thoughts ... are you?"

Becky swallows hard under her glare. "No, Elle," she says at once. "Of course not. What would ever give you that idea?"

Elle takes another step closer. "You've declined all my offers to join in on Claire's sessions," she points out, sounding displeased. "Why would that be, I wonder? You're not developing a _conscience_ on me ... now are you?"

Becky shakes her head. "No, Elle. Not at all. I just ... don't really get off on that stuff. No offense."

Elle laughs, and falls back a couple of steps. "None taken," she tells her. "But ... just so you know ... I may not expect you to take my _suggestions_, but ... I _do_ expect you to follow orders at all times, _no matter what they are_. We _do_ have an understanding on that ... don't we?"

Becky nods, letting out the breath she's been holding in. "Yes, Elle. Of course. You're the boss."

"_Good_. Now, bring me the Haitian. Peter and his little band of misfits will be arriving any minute ..." Elle squeals with delight. "Oh, what fun _this _is going to be!"

*to be continued ...*


	3. Chapter 3

The Sixth Year: Chapter Three

Peter, Gretchen, and Jack have landed about fifty yards shy of the entrance to Elle's underground bunker, which is nothing more than a large elevator jutting out of the ground, and are looking down on it from a hillside above.

The three would-be rescuers are hunched down against the hillside, and Peter is peering through a pair of binoculars. The entrance is guarded by only two men, both looking solid, but lonely, at the bottom of the hill.

"This almost seems too easy," Peter remarks, still looking through his binoculars.

"And ... you're complaining?" asks Gretchen, her heart pounding already.

"She's obviously expecting us," replies Peter, putting the binoculars back in his pocket. "Now I just wish _we_ knew what to expect."

"_Anything_, mate," suggests Jack. "That's my motto."

"Can you get inside their heads from here?" Peter asks him, referring to the two guards. "There's an alarm panel next to the doors. It would be helpful if I could have the code _before_ I take those two out."

"Already done," answers Jack, grinning. "Retrieved and memorized. Do your thing, partner."

Peter nods, stands, and goes running down the hill at top speed. So fast, that he is nothing but a blur in the corner of Gretchen's eye.

Before the guards even know he's there, he has grabbed both their heads and knocked them together like bowling balls. The guards go down in a heap beside each other, sleeping peacefully now, blissfully unaware of the massive headaches that await them.

Jack gets up, motioning for Gretchen to do the same. "Come on!" he tells her.

He lumbers down the hill to join Peter, and Gretchen takes a deep breath before doing the same.

_This is it_, she tells herself. _We're finally coming, Claire ..._

But, deep down, she has the same concern as Peter:

_Just how ready for us will Elle be?_

When they have all reached the entrance, Jack enters the code, and the big steel doors slide open. Wasting no time now, the three get in, and the doors quickly shut behind them.

There is no panel on this elevator from which to _choose_ a floor. It simply starts going down on its own immediately.

"Well ... that was kind of disappointing," Gretchen says after a moment, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Peter gives her a confused look. "What was disappointing?" he asks.

"Um ... the way you just knocked those two guards' heads together? I mean, seriously, Pete? I've waited all this time to see your great _multitude_ of powers, and_ that's_ the best you could come up with?"

Peter smiles, releasing a short laugh. "Oh yeah?" he replies. "Sorry about that. I'll try to do something more impressive next time."

"Hopefully to Elle," adds Gretchen, her skin crawling at the very mention of that bitch's name.

"Any requests?" Peter kids.

"Yeah," she says, as if a sudden thought has just hit her. "Is _hellfire_ one of your powers?"

He laughs again. "Sorry. Not yet."

"Will you two stop cracking jokes and get serious?" Jack pleads, a look of warning in his eye. "We're almost there."

Gretchen clears her throat and looks forward expectantly, as if the doors might pop open any second and reveal Elle standing right before them. Her heart is still racing, but not out of fear anymore. In fact, the closer she gets to Claire, the less afraid she becomes ... and the more excited she gets to watch Peter kick Elle's skinny ass straight to hell.

By the time the doors_ do _open, Gretchen is like a horse at the starting gates of the Kentucky Derby. The only difference is that she's not frothing at the mouth.

The hallway they step into out of the elevator appears vacant. Single red bulbs, cased under barbed wire, and mounted on the walls are the only source of light in the tunnel. And they are flickering, as if they might explode at any moment; their constant hum loud and distracting in Gretchen's ears.

They walk slowly down the corridor, with Peter in the lead, treading lightly and carefully, like scared teenagers in a house of horrors. The tunnel is long and straight, with no turns to take and no doors to try and open. Besides the humming of the red lights, everything is silent. And, for a second, Gretchen begins to wonder if Elle has left the building, taking Claire with her.

Then, the lights begin to flicker more than before, some of them bursting beside them. The hum grows louder, and is accompanied by a zapping sound that sends chills up Gretchen's spine. Peter stops, putting a hand out to shield Gretchen from what they both know is just beyond them ... lurking in the shadows.

They can't _see_ her yet ... but they know she's there. Peter holds out his other hand to zap Elle with one of his own jolts of electricity, but ... nothing happens.

Then, Gretchen hears the laugh before she sees the face come out of the darkness, and it causes her to gasp out loud, despite her training to stay dauntless under pressure. It is throaty and low at first, then gains momentum as Elle steps into the light, sounding quite insane and peculiar, but eerily sexy at the same time.

"What's the matter, Petey?" Elle asks. "Did you blow a fuse?"

Before Peter has a chance to respond, a wheelchair baring the Haitian is pushed out of the shadows from behind Elle. He looks calm and unworried, but also blank, as if he isn't even aware of what's happening around him. Becky is pushing the chair, a wicked smile on her face.

"Rene?" Peter calls out, giving the Haitian a look of confusion. "What's going on? Why are you holding back my powers?"

"Oh,_ he isn't_, pet," promises Elle, "at least ... not on purpose."

"What do you mean?" Peter demands to know. "What have you done to him?"

"I've done nothing," she swears, giving Peter an innocent, but still crazy smile. "But ... I'm afraid you _have_ gone around trusting the wrong people again. Oh, Peter. When will you ever learn?"

Peter and Gretchen both look back at One-Eyed Jack, who is staring straight at Rene, a grave look of concentration on his face.

"I'm sorry, mate," he tells Peter, sounding sincere. "But ... Elle made me an offer I couldn't resist."

"No one's strong enough to control Rene," Peter tells him, rushing forward to tackle Jack.

Before he can make contact however, Elle zaps Peter hard, and he falls to the floor, screaming in pain. Elle continues until blood tears come to Peter's eyes, her own eyes burning in ecstasy as she does so ... then she finally releases him, grinning with satisfaction.

Gretchen takes a step away from all of them, bumping her back against the wall in the process.

"Becky ... if you would, please? I'm getting bored already," Elle says with a sigh.

Becky nods, disappears, then reappears right beside Peter, sticking him with a hypodermic needle that Gretchen assumes will render him useless on the rest of this mission.

She swallows hard and looks at Jack, who is still staring at the Haitian.

"You don't have to do this, Jack," she pleads, taking note of the cracking in her voice. "Please ... I know you don't really _want_ this."

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he tells her, the heartbreak obvious in his voice. "But, that child that is coming will threaten us _all_ ... all except Elle, and she's promised to protect me."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" says Elle, chiming in. "But, first ... please follow Becky back to the Haitian's room, won't you, Jack? I will let you know when you are needed again."

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, walking past Gretchen without looking at her.

Gretchen watches in terror as Becky wheels Rene away, Jack following obediently behind them.

"Well, finally, I get to meet the infamous girlfriend," Elle says when they are gone, coming closer to Gretchen. "What a treat, I can't tell you. I can't _wait _to let Claire know that you're here. She'll be _so_ pleased."

"Wh ... Where is she?" Gretchen asks, her back still against the wall. "I want to see her."

Elle laughs. "Oh, I bet you do," she replies. "But, I'm afraid Claire's a little busy right now. You see, I just couldn't manage to get her pregnant ... no matter how hard I tried, and, believe me ... _I tried really hard_."

Elle lets this last comment linger, enjoying the reaction she is getting. She can tell at once that Gretchen is absolutely aware of the innuendo, _and doesn't like it one bit_.

She laughs again, and extends a finger, slowly running it down Gretchen's arm. Static electricity shoots up and down it as she does, just lightly enough to be felt.

"Your girlfriend's stupid body is just_ not _cooperating," she continues, taking the finger back. "So, I've had to make other arrangements, and I am _not_ pleased about it. Instead of moving Claire into her new room today, which I had _planned_ on doing, now I have to wait for these stupid doctors to take out her eggs and fertilize them. Do you know how _long_ that takes? _Days!_"

Gretchen narrows her brows. "What are you going to_ do_ with ... her _eggs_?"

Elle smiles dementedly. "Well ... I'm not going to lie and tell you I didn't think of putting them in _myself_," she tells her. "But, no one really knows what my electricity might do to a fetus. I mean ... who's to say this miracle child will have Claire's regeneration ability?"

Gretchen feels herself start to vomit, but swallows hard and tries to focus.

_Just keep her talking until Peter wakes up_, she tells herself. _Goddamn it, Pete! Wake up!_

"So ..." Elle goes on, "we've been forced to look at the only other option that makes sense ... _you_, of course."

Gretchen's eyes go wide. "_Me?_ Why_ me_? I'm not even an evolve."

"So what?" she shrugs. "You don't have to be. You're just a replacement oven ... which I plan on scrapping the moment _he's_ born anyway. And ... besides ... it will be fun making Claire watch you suffer, don't you think? I mean, now that I really _think_ about it, maybe plan B won't be so bad after all. She's really going to _flip_ when she finds out what I have in store for you."

Gretchen wants to kick her ass so bad, she can taste it like the vomit in her mouth, but Peter isn't waking up, and she can't take Elle on alone. She looks down at Peter, still motionless on the cement floor, and tries to _will_ him awake.

Elle follows her stare.

"Oh ..." she says, laughing a little. "You still think Petey might wake up to save the day? Don't bet on it, sweetheart. He's gonna be out for a _long_ time ... And, I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Gretchen looks back up at her, anger burning in her eyes, but Elle only grins with satisfaction. She glances down at Gretchen's fists, which are clenched tight at her sides.

"You wanna hit me?" Elle asks, raising an eyebrow, as if she's flirting. "Cause ... I have no plans of killing you right away, you know. Go ahead, Gretch. Hit me. I promise I won't hit back."

Gretchen scoffs a laugh. "Yeah. Maybe not with your _fists_."

"No! I _promise_," Elle swears, looking very sincere in a looney sort of way. "No electricity, no _nothing_. I'll just duck and dart. Whatta' ya' say? You wanna use me as a _punching bag_? Get out some of that _aggression_ I see, just dying to come out? Come on, Gretch ... Don't let this opportunity pass you by. Come on ... _hit me_."

"You're going to be sorry you offered," Gretchen warns her, immediately giving her a round-house kick in the face.

Blood spurting from her mouth, Elle lurches backwards, almost losing balance, but then steadies herself and gives Gretchen a wicked grin. "Nice," she compliments. "Your aim is perfect. Who's your trainer?"

Elle then returns the kick with one of her own, but Gretchen catches her leg and throws her off, this time knocking Elle to the ground.

"Hiro," Gretchen replies, "as if you didn't already know. And, I thought you weren't going to fight back?"

Elle stands and releases a small laugh, saying, "I lied."

Gretchen goes to kick her again, but this time Elle catches _her_ leg in mid-air and says, "But ... I'll still try not to use electricity. Pinky swear."

Elle throws her leg backwards, spinning her around so that she lands face-down on the concrete, then kicks her in the ribs.

"Had enough?" she asks.

"Hardly," growls Gretchen, who jumps up in one quick motion to face her.

Gretchen freezes in a defensive stance, waiting for Elle to strike, her eyes focused on nothing but destruction.

"My goodness," says Elle, as if in awe. "You _have_ been training, haven't you? And, not just in technique. You're not even that _afraid_ of me, are you?"

Gretchen says nothing, but only narrows her eyes.

"Well ... you _should_ be," Elle warns, her smile fading. "Because, now I'm getting bored."

She lifts a hand, her face growing dark, and strikes Gretchen with a mild jolt, enough to bring her to her knees.

"It's time I told Claire that you're here," Elle says, releasing her of the charge. "Get up."

Gretchen tries to stand, but the jolt has left her weak. She falters midway, and Elle rushes to pull her up, impatient.

"I said _get up, bitch_!" she yells, yanking her up hard by the armpit. She pulls Gretchen's arm around her shoulders and begins walking her down the corridor, huffing under her weight. "Goddamn it! _Why do I always have to do everything myself_?"

* * *

A little later, Elle enters Claire's room with a smile on her face, as if holding tight to a juicy secret. Claire has been strapped back onto her metal slab, after undergoing a rather invasive procedure without anesthetic, and is in no mood for Elle's games today. She looks at her briefly, then closes her eyes to pretend she's not there.

"Hey, there, sunshine," Elle says with a gleeful giggle. "Aww ... what's the matter? Don't want to talk today? Maybe some news of your girlfriend will change your mind, hmm?"

Claire opens her eyes, narrowing them at Elle. Her body flexes in response, as if preparing to lunge. But, of course, it is only met by steel.

"Oh," says Elle, "so ... that _did_ get your attention. Good. Now ... wanna see what I got today while you were away?"

There is a television mounted on the wall which has never been turned on. Elle turns it on now, and Claire gasps upon seeing the image in front of her.

The room on the t.v. screen looks just like Claire's, except, instead of Claire strapped to the table ... it's _Gretchen_.

"_What have you done to her?_" Claire demands to know, twisting in her restraints, even though she knows it's useless.

"Nothing," swears Elle, "... _yet_."

"You sick, twisted _bitch_," Claire growls. "You are going to regret this, I swear to God, Elle. I don't care if it takes me a _lifetime_ ... I will make you _pay for this_ someday."

Elle only laughs. "Yeah, yeah ... I've heard it a million times. Save your breath, baby. You'll need it when I take you to see Gretch in a few days."

"Why would you do that?" Claire asks cautiously.

Elle grins. "Glad you asked," she says. "You see, you don't know it yet, but you're about to make one of the most important choices in your whole life. It's a win, win for me, really, but ... I'm guessing this might be a little hard for _you_."

"Spit it out, bitch," Claire tells her, now becoming the impatient one.

"Ooo ... I like a girl who gets right down to business," purrs Elle, coming closer. "Okay, Claire ... here's the deal: I had to take your eggs, fertilize them, and, now ... I have to _put them_ somewhere. Are you following yet, Blondie?"

"You're going to implant Gretchen with my fertilized eggs?" guesses Claire, her eyes filled with horror.

"Wow. Score one for Blondie," says Elle, laughing. "But ... I'm not finished. I said you had a choice to make ... remember?"

"Wh ... what kind of _choice_?"

"The implantation procedure," replies Elle. "It's usually done by a doctor, but ... eh. I read about it, and ... it doesn't really sound _that_ hard. So, I was thinking ... wouldn't it be fun to get some real participation going here? I mean, I could do the procedure while you watched, or ... you could do it while I watched. Either way would be fun, so ... I thought, _why not let Claire choose who does it and who watches? _ Hmm?"

Claire tries to comprehend what she's saying, but her mind is battling her. It wants to shut it out and pretend she didn't hear at all.

"You are fucking psychotic," is all that comes out when she finally opens her mouth to speak.

Elle laughs. "I know. Isn't it _great_? So, what do you say, Claire? Will it be me watching ... or_ you_?"

"_You're not touching her_," Claire warns, her voice freakishly deep and gravely. "I'll do it ... If somebody has to, then ... I will."

Elle huffs a laugh, looking proudly victorious, and turns to leave, putting a hand on the door handle. The television is still on, and she shows no sign of turning it off. Claire can't help staring at it, even as it pains her.

Then, Elle turns back around.

"Not that I'm displeased with your decision, pet," she says, causing Claire to look back at her once again. She takes a pause, her smile growing into a cheshire grin, then continues, "But ... just so you know, _I never said I wouldn't touch her anyway_."

She turns back around and exits out the door, leaving Claire screaming and weeping behind her. When the door has shut, Claire looks up at the t.v. screen with wide eyes.

_No, no, no_, she thinks, closing her eyes. _This cannot be happening. Why is Gretchen here? Where is Peter?_

After a moment, she hears the door handle click and opens her eyes again. But, it wasn't her door that she heard opening ... It was Gretchen's on t.v.

_Fuck! This thing has sound too?_

She watches helplessly as Elle enters Gretchen's room on the monitor, wanting to close her eyes again, but unable to look away. Elle grabs two latex gloves from the counter, and looks up at the camera as she's putting them on.

Her smile is evil enough to burn through lead, and it's aimed straight at Claire, as if she's looking at her through the lens.

"This might hurt a little," she tells Gretchen, still looking at the camera.

Claire watches as Elle turns to face Gretchen, and hears Gretchen start to cry behind her.

Finally, she closes her eyes again. But, she cannot close her ears ...

*to be continued ...*


	4. Chapter 4

*author's note: This chapter has been heavily revised, and is now much, much more adult in nature. NO ONE UNDER 18 SHOULD BE READING THIS! Hope the rest of you enjoy though*

The Sixth Year: Chapter Four (revised)

Elle enters Claire's room and turns on the light. She hasn't seen Claire in over three days, but Claire has seen plenty of her. Up on the t.v. screen, humiliating and torturing Gretchen right before her eyes, day ... after day ... after day.

Like any normal person in such circumstances, Gretchen had cried and screamed at first, and her wailing had pierced Claire's ears and cut straight to her heart. For what had seemed like hours, Claire had squirmed and writhed against her restraints while listening to that wailing, cursing and growling like a crated beast. And, at that time, she was sure it couldn't possibly get any worse ...

But then, Gretchen did something very unexpected. She stopped wailing. In fact, she stopped making any sounds whatsoever. She went dead silent.

For a moment, Claire had feared the worse. The sudden quiet had made her heart stop, and she froze in place, listening for any sound of Gretchen still being alive. Then, finally, Elle had spoken, easing Claire's mind somewhat ... for the time being.

"Gone mute, have we?" Elle had asked Gretchen. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Claire had looked back up at the monitor just in time to see Elle zap Gretchen with a powerful jolt of electricity. It shook the young brunette's body as if it were nothing more than a wet rag, but Gretchen still refused to make a noise. Her continued stoicism had then sent Elle over the edge, and made things much worse than Claire could have even imagined. Feeling that Gretchen had challenged her now, Elle had taken things to another level.

She knew better than to keep zapping her. If she wanted Gretchen to carry Claire's child, she certainly couldn't_ kill_ her yet. And she knew better than to rape her as violently as she had Claire, for the very same reason. So she had been forced to get creative. She had burned her face with an iron, scalded her legs with boiling water, and, when all else had failed, she had begun telling her the tales of _Claire's_ torture. She told these like gruesome bedtime stories, her voice bubbly with excitement, and her vivid descriptions full of rich and gory detail.

But even that had not broken Gretchen. It had only broken Claire. Feeling hopeless, useless, and guilty for ever involving Gretchen in the first place, she had stopped struggling against the restraints. She had stopped listening to Elle taunt Gretchen. She had just _stopped_, period. Her heart was still beating, strong and loud in her chest, but she was dead inside. Since then she'd done nothing but stare at the ceiling, as if the television were not even there.

Elle walks slowly towards her now, a bemused grin on her face, and tilts her head to the side wonderingly. "Jesus, Claire," she says, "what the hell happened to you?"

Claire turns her eyes to meet Elle's, but it is an empty stare. Her green eyes, usually so alive with emotion, are now like the eyes of a doll's. Elle pouts at the sight, and lays a gentle hand on Claire's arm.

"You look like shit, poor baby ..." cooes Elle, caressing her, with just the lightest touch of electricity. "Have my doctors not been taking care of you?"

"Why don't you just kill me?" Claire finally says, her voice just as flat as her stare.

Elle gives a short laugh at that. "Would you like that?" she purrs. "For me to be the one who finally puts you out of your misery? I have to admit, that would be pretty poetic."

"So do it, then," Claire suggests. "What's stopping you?"

"You may think you're broken _now_," Elle tells her, leaning closer, "but you ain't seen nothing yet, sweetheart. Did you really think this was the worse I could do?"

Claire's eyes grow a little wider, and the emptiness starts to fade into fear. Elle straightens up, smiling.

"I talked to the doctors this morning," she tells Claire, beginning to unlock her restraints as she speaks. "And they had wonderful news! Your precious eggs are finally ready for implantation, and I've already prepped Gretchen for the procedure. She's waiting for you now, just down the hall."

Claire watches her closely, narrowing her eyes, but says nothing in response.

"You do still want to be the one to perform the procedure, don't you?" asks Elle, working the lock on the neck restraint. "I mean ... if you've changed your mind, I would be happy to take your place."

The lock finally pops, and Elle lifts the neck restraint. Claire rubs at her neck with one hand, lifting herself up with the other.

"No," she says, answering quickly. "I'll do it. Take me to her."

"Not so fast, Claire," Elle warns, giving her a grin. "Don't you think we'd better discuss some ground-rules first?"

"I'm not planning on doing anything stupid, if that's what you mean," says Claire, with all sincerity.

Elle laughs. "Well, of course. That's a given, isn't it? I've never taken you for a fool, Claire."

Claire wrinkles her forehead, confused. "Then, what do you mean?"

"I'm talking about following orders, baby," replies Elle, running a hand through Claire's hair lovingly. "The _first_ time, I mean. I don't want to repeat myself in there ... you understand, right? If I tell you to do something, I'll expect you to do it. No exceptions."

"Fine," she replies through gritted teeth.

"Good," says Elle with a smile. "Follow me, Claire. It's time to get your girlfriend pregnant."

* * *

Moments later, Claire is standing in Gretchen's room next to Elle, with Elle's hand firmly grasping one of her shoulders. Gretchen appears to be sleeping, and is wearing a hospital gown similar to Claire's. She is bound by the wrists to the table, and her feet are propped up in stirrups. Her body is covered in burns and bruises, and one of her eyes is completely swollen shut.

Claire gasps at the sight and turns her head, but Elle grabs both sides of her face from behind, forcing her it forward again.

"What's the matter, Claire?" she laughs, her breath hot in her ear. "Feeling a little guilty? A little responsible, maybe? After all, she wouldn't be here without you, would she?"

"Let me heal her," Claire pleads, her eyes now fully back to life, and filling with tears. "Please, Elle ... her wounds could get infected ... it could damage the embryo ..."

Elle releases her hold and steps back, laughing. "Come now, Claire. Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to risk infection? The doctors have already looked her over. She's fine."

"Then, why does it look like she's in a coma?"

"What?" chuckles Elle. "Oh, quit worrying. She's only resting. Give her a break, lover. She's been through a lot."

"Why are you doing this?" Claire asks then, closing her eyes tight. "She's done nothing to you. Why can't you just find another surrogate?"

"Do you have any suggestions?" Elle replies, looking interested.

"_Anyone_," Claire quickly answers, turning to face her. "Anyone but her."

"Really?" questions Elle, raising an eyebrow. "Becky maybe?"

Claire's eyes perk up.

"No ... that's too easy," corrects Elle, furrowing her brow in thought.

She leans back against a table, crossing her arms while looking Claire over carefully. And in a moment, she has a thought, and a wide grin spreads across her face.

"Tell me something, Claire," she finally says. "If I asked you to leave this place and find a suitable replacement for Gretchen, would you do it? Would you go out and kidnap an innocent woman; a stranger, and bring her to me?"

"Would you let Gretchen go?" Claire asks, taking the bait.

"Of course," promises Elle, trying her best to look sincere. "That's kind of the point, right?"

"Then, yes," answers Claire, her voice deepening. "I'll bring you whoever you want."

Elle nods, looking pleasantly surprised. "Really? Even Peter's new little girlfriend? What's her name? Stephanie?"

Claire swallows hard before answering. "_Yes_. Whatever you want. Just ... don't do this, Elle ... _please_."

Elle straightens up and comes closer, laughing hard. "Holy shit. You really _would_, wouldn't you? You'd do anything to get her out of here. Kinda makes you and I a lot alike, don't you think?"

"I am _nothing_ like you," Claire replies, her eyes burning with hatred.

"Oh yeah?" asks Elle. "What makes us so different, Claire? Sounds like you're just as willing to cross the line as I am."

"For _her_," Claire reminds Elle, nodding towards the sleeping figure next to them. "Not for my own sick, demented needs."

Elle gives her a look of boredom. "Speaking of sick, demented needs ... I've had enough chit-chat. Let's get to work, shall we? Becky? Are you and the doctor ready in there?"

Claire follows Elle's stare, and sees Becky's face staring back at her from behind a glass window in the next room. Becky nods.

"Whenever you are," says Becky's voice from speakers above.

"Good," replies Elle, staring hard at Claire. "You ready, Claire?"

Claire shakes her head, grinning foolishly. "Is there anything that isn't a game to you anymore?" she asks Elle.

"Sure, pet," purrs Elle happily, coming closer again. "This baby is no game. He's my salvation. _Our_ salvation. Now ... it's time to stop asking questions and start taking orders. Wake her up. It's time."

Claire takes a deep breath and turns back to Gretchen. Even in her sleep, she appears to be in pain. Her face is drawn inward, and her eyes are twitching beneath her heavy lids. Claire comes closer to her, laying a hand gently on the only untouched spot on her arm.

"Gretch," she says, giving her arm a light squeeze. "Can you hear me? It's Claire ..."

Gretchen shifts uncomfortably, pulling her arm away at first, then pops open her unhurt eye. It focuses on Claire and relaxes instantly.

"Claire?" she mumbles, still groggy from sleep. "Is that really you? Are you okay?"

"I'm ... fine," Claire tells her, holding her tears back. "Don't worry about me, okay? Just ... relax. This will all be over in a minute ..."

"Borrring," Elle sing-songs, adding a yawn for emphasis. "Cut the warm and fuzzies and get to work, baby. We haven't got all day. Well ... we _have_, but ... not for this."

Elle laughs manically and leans forward, resting her hands on the side of Gretchen's table, across from Claire. "Now, lift up her gown, Claire," she directs, grinning under the gaze of Claire's cold, hard stare.

Claire feels her heart start to race, and feels frozen in place for a moment.

"Do it, _baby_," Elle warns her. "Remember what I said ... I don't want to have to repeat myself in here. Don't make me do it again."

Elle's laughter is gone in an instant, and she is staring at Claire with immediate threat in her eyes. Claire tries to gulp down the lump in her throat, but it's gone bone dry. She turns her eyes away from Gretchen and takes a hold of the bottom of her gown, her hand trembling.

"It's okay, Claire," she hears Gretchen say suddenly, in a remarkably calm and soothing tone. "Don't be afraid. I'm ready for this."

Claire looks up at her, her hand still holding the gown.

"You shut up, cunt!" Elle screams in response, grabbing Gretchen's bruised chin and squeezing it hard between her fingers. "I've had enough of your fucking hero act! Claire! Lift up her fucking gown ... _now_!"

Claire lifts the gown up slowly, keeping her eyes on Gretchen's for the moment, and holding her breath without even realizing it.

"Good," says Elle, letting go of Gretchen's chin. "Now ... see that long, tube-like looking thing with the plunger on top, sitting next to you on the tray?"

Claire looks over and spots the device in question.

"Pick that up, with the plunger facing you, and move to the end of the table ..."

Claire picks it up, her hand still shaking, and turns to move where directed. With Gretchen's legs fully spread as they are, and with the gown now lifted above her waist, Claire immediately finds herself gazing upon her girlfriend's exposed anatomy, and shudders in response. She has been recently shaved, and the thought of Elle's hand on the razor makes Claire's blood boil in anger.

"Calm down, pet," warns Elle, seeing the ferocity burning in Claire's eyes. "We've just gotten started. Now ... spread her pussy open with your fingers, and use the end of the catheter to tease her clit ..."

Claire looks at Elle with disbelief and horror. She is smiling wickedly, like a snake with a rat in it's sites. "Did you think this would be _easy_, Claire?" she asks. "Have you learned nothing?"

"No," says Claire, her voice cracking. "... No, _I can't_ ..."

"Don't test me, sweetheart," replies Elle. "I won't be nearly as gentle as you, if you make me do it myself ... _trust me_."

"Okay, okay," Claire stutters in response, "just ... give me a second!"

Claire takes another steadying breath and looks at Gretchen. She is smiling at her weakly, and gives her a brave nod.

As gently as possible, Claire uses her fingers to expose her girlfriend's clitoris. Gretchen gasps in response, and Elle's grin grows as she watches on. Claire's hand is still shaking, but she tries to steady it as she places the cold tip of the catheter against Gretchen's soft, pink skin. The shock of the feel of it causes Gretchen to gasp again, but that doesn't stop her clit from rising in response. And, even in these deplorable conditions, Claire can't help but take notice. She gasps a little too, despite herself.

"That's it ..." directs Elle, purring again like a cat in heat, "... take your time, Claire. Just rub the tip of it against her slowly ... mmm ... yes."

The sound of Elle's voice pulls Claire unwillingly back into reality. She tries to focus on Gretchen; tries to shut Elle out. But her voice is a constant, unwelcome reminder what horror is really taking place. It forces Claire out of whatever fantasy she could possibly be having, and places guilt and shame all over what she is doing instead.

In fact, each time Elle opens her mouth to speak, Claire can feel the grime all over her; dripping off of her like decomposed trash.

"Now ..." says Elle next, "put the catheter inside her, and keep massaging her clit with your finger ..."

Claire does as instructed, and Gretchen lets out a small moan that causes Elle to giggle. "See?" says Elle. "She likes it, baby. Don't you, Gretch? ... Tell her you like it, bitch!"

"Yes," moans Gretchen, closing her eyes.

Claire closes her eyes as well, and tries to imagine that she and Gretchen are in another place, far, far away ... with no one else in sight.

"Slide it in and out of her slowly, Claire," instructs Elle, her voice becoming breathier. "... yes, baby ... just like that."

Claire feels pressure against the catheter, and opens her eyes to see that Gretchen has begun thrusting forward, grinding her clit against Claire's finger with every push of the catheter. Her eyes are closed tight, and Claire wonders if she's in that other place too, alone in her mind with Claire ... just as it had been at Peter's on that moonlit night.

That seemed so very, very far away now.

"Is she wet, baby?" Elle suddenly asks, her voice thick with lust. "Is she _dripping_ wet?"

"Yes," Claire answers, and the breathiness of her own voice surprises her. She gasps at the very sound of it in her ears, and feels that metaphorical grime all over her again.

"Good," breathes out Elle in response. "Put it all the way inside of her, and push down on the plunger ..."

Claire gives it one final push, causing Gretchen to release her most intense moan yet, and pushes down on the plunger as instructed. She watches with a mixture of curiosity and fear as pearly liquid comes dripping from her girlfriend's open vagina, and cannot help but wonder whether it is from the catheter or from Gretchen.

Elle lets out a long and pleasurable sigh, then follows it with a throaty laugh. "You can take it out now. You're all finished, Claire."

Claire lets out her own deep breath, and pulls the catheter out slowly. Gretchen gives one more small gasp as Claire takes it out, then closes her eyes, her head resting back on the pillow again. She puts down the catheter and pulls Gretchen's gown back down, smoothing it neatly over her naked thighs. She looks at her with sorrow in her eyes, and Gretchen opens her good eye again, returning the look with a weak smile.

"I am so, so sorry, Gretchen," says Claire softly, one tear escaping her hold and falling delicately down her cheek.

Elle grabs Claire's arm hard, and attempts to pull her away. "I said you were _finished_, pet. That means it's time to tell girlfriend bye, bye."

"Don't cry, Claire," Gretchen says as Elle is pulling her away. "This is not your fault, do you hear me? Remember that, okay? _This is not your fault, Claire_."

"That's _enough_," Elle demands, growing impatient. She yanks hard on Claire's arm, but Claire is struggling to keep her feet planted.

Gretchen's smile grows, and her eye fixes on Claire, giving her a determined stare. "I _love_ you, Claire," she says suddenly. "Nothing can ever change that. Do you understand me? _Nothing_."

Claire looks at her with wonder dancing in her green eyes. And, despite their current dire situation, she cannot help but smile. "I love you too," she tells Gretchen, the words spilling out so naturally, she cannot believe she hasn't said them before.

"How fucking sweet," Elle groans, pulling Claire finally to the door. Claire takes one last look at Gretchen, her feet still propped in stirrups, and then is dragged out the door by Elle. It slams shut behind them, and Elle turns to face her, still clutching to her arm.

"Jesus, that little scene almost made me feel sorry for you two lovebirds," Elle tells her. "Good thing I don't have a conscience or anything, or I might be tempted to stop playing this game."

"I thought you said it was finished," replies Claire, holding back her urge to spit in Elle's eye.

"No, sweetheart," Elle purrs in response. "I said _you_ were finished."

Digging her nails into the flesh of Claire's arm, Elle pulls her forward, and marches her back in the direction of her room again.

* * *

Once back in the restraints, and alone again in the dark of her lonely room, Claire's muddled thoughts immediately return to Gretchen ... and of ways of getting her safely away from here. She wonders what's happened to Peter and Rene. She wonders if Hiro is aware of what's happening to them. She wonders if he has a plan.

And then, as all these thoughts are spinning like tops in her head, she suddenly hears a voice. It comes from seemingly nowhere ... and everywhere.

_Claire_, the voice says. _Claire! Can you hear me?_

"Oh, shit," she says out loud, looking around and seeing no one. "Now I'm losing my _mind_ too."

_You're not losing your mind, Claire_, says the voice. And the voice is low and raspy, like an older man's. _I'm a telepath. My name is One-Eyed Jack, and I know your uncle. I'm here, in the building, in another room._

_What do you want?_ Claire thinks back, closing her eyes to focus.

_I want to help you_, he tells her. _I've done something terrible, bringing Gretchen and Peter here. And I cannot live with myself. I must do something to make amends. I must get you and your girl out of here._

_How can I trust you now, if I know that you're the reason they're here?_ replies Claire.

_You must_, says he. _You've no other option. Please, let me help you. I've spoken to a friend of Hiro's, someone with a much more powerful mind than I. And a plan's already been made. All you have to do is follow my directions._

_Does Hiro know about this plan?_ asks Claire.

_Of course_, replies Jack. _It was his plan ..._

*to be continued ...*


	5. Chapter 5

The Sixth Year: Chapter Five

Somewhere in Japan, amidst a very sacred forest, Hiro Nakamura sits cross-legged on the floor of a large, open patio. Behind him stands an ancient sanctuary, seemingly untouched by time. It is the home of his new friend, Kazuya Gin, a mysterious shapeshifter who claims to be over 200 years old. The woman actually appears to be quite young, in human form, perhaps even as young as 20, and is quite quick and agile in any form she chooses. But, shapeshifting is not her only talent. Gin has proven herself to be many things to Hiro over the past couple of weeks, but he's now made up his mind that she is not an empath like Peter, nor has she the skill of copying someone's ability the way that Sylar does.

Gin does not give information directly, and he often gets the feeling that she is just playing with him. But, from what he's gathered, he now believes that she gets her abilities from this forest, and from her connection to it. She can heal, read minds, see the future, and she is telekinetic. But, if she leaves the boundaries of her homeland, shapeshifting is her only option. All other abilities get left behind, only to pop back up again when she returns.

Hiro himself has felt the pull of the forest; felt the energy in this place. But his worry over Claire is clouding all his thoughts, and he finds it impossible to find peace, despite the serenity of his settings.

Gin stands just behind him, wearing a long, black robe that covers her petite form from head to toe. The hood of it is pulled all the way forward, so that all he can see of her face is her chin, and she has her hands neatly folded inside. If she'd been slouching in this position, she would have looked very much like the emperor in Star Wars. But she stands as straight as an arrow, shoulders squared and head up. She is also as still as a statue, and Hiro wonders for a moment if she's awake or in some kind of a trance.

In front of them, the long and narrow steps leading away from the patio spill over rolling hills, lush and green from the forest spring, and Hiro watches a hawk swoop down over them and disappear. In a moment, the hawk reappears with a snake in it's mouth.

"Snakes are plentiful this season," says Gin, finally breaking the silence. "No challenge for the hawk."

"Yes," agrees Hiro, smiling. "The hawk seems very content."

Gin laughs, and sits down next to Hiro on the floor.

"No, my friend," she tells him. "You are mistaken. The hawk is no longer hungry, but he is far from content. He would prefer to hunt for his food."

"Did the hawk tell you that?" asks Hiro, rolling his eyes.

"Sarcasm does not suit you, Hiro Nakamura," she says next. "Perhaps if you gave up your worry and focused ..."

"How can I not worry?" asks Hiro, turning to face her. "After all that Claire has been through ..."

Gin laughs again, but keeps her stare directly ahead of her. "The worst has already happened, my friend. There is nothing to fear now. You should be happy."

"Happy?" huffs Hiro. "What is there to be happy about? Have you any idea what kind of trauma those girls have been through? How long it will take them to _heal_ after something like this?"

"Healing? Hmph," replies Gin. "You speak to me of healing, as if I know nothing of it?" chuckles Gin, shaking her head. "I know much more of healing than _you_, my friend. More than Claire as well."

"Then, why won't you tell me _more_ of what you know?" he asks.

"Not time," she says simply. "Not for you to know. You must have faith, my friend. Put your fears away, or you shall fail at this task."

Hiro takes a deep breath and pauses, considering his next question carefully.

"I must leave soon," he finally says, exhaling slowly. "Will you tell me nothing of what's to come before I go?"

Gin pulls the hood slowly away, revealing a cheshire grin. "I will tell you only what you must know to complete your task. Nothing more."

Having rarely seen her so exposed, Hiro gulps under her stare. Her eyes have strange orange glints within, which glow like embers from a fire. And accompanied with the mysterious grin, they cause her to appear almost mad.

"You must leave Elle Bishop _alive_," she begins by saying, her grin fading upon the words. "This will not sit well with your friend Claire, but you must do as I say. Otherwise, you will never find Peter Petrelli. You may think that reminding Claire of this will help matters ..." Gin chuckles again, then says, "it will _not_. She _will_ fight you, Hiro. With everything she has. You must not let her emotions get in the way of what you have to do."

Hiro takes another deep breath. "What of the child?" he asks. "The one that so many think will be the downfall of us all?"

Gin sucks in air through her teeth, as if disturbed by this question. "Have I not told you? You must leave the child be, my friend. And make sure Claire and her friend do the same! Do not be fooled by the artists' depictions."

"The artists have saved our lives many times before," reminds Hiro. "Why should I listen to _you_ and not them this time?"

Gin grins again, holding her head high. "The artists have made mistakes before. Gin never has."

"Then, tell me what this child _really_ is," Hiro insists. "Why do you want us to keep him alive so badly?"

"This child will not be a _soul-sucker_, as people are calling him," giggles Gin. "Oh, no ... not at all. A healer, like his _mother_, he will be. Only, much, much more gifted than she."

"A _healer_?" repeats Hiro, confused. "But ... I don't understand."

Gin giggles again, and pulls her hood back up. "Not for you to understand, my friend. Only for you to _know_. Now ... it is time. You must go. Hurry."

Gin stands back up, and gives Hiro a hand up as well. Her grip and pull are amazingly strong, for someone as diminutive as she, and he stares up at her in awe.

"Bring Claire and Gretchen to me," Gin tells him, folding her hands back inside the robe. "I shall prepare them for what lies ahead. Do not fret, Hiro Nakamura. Only concentrate on what's in front of you, and leave the rest to me."

Hiro bows and gives her a nod. Then, with a wink, he is gone.

* * *

Claire is locked away in her restraints, her eyes closed tightly, and her mind focused on One-Eyed Jack. It has been hours since she last heard his voice inside her head, and she has allowed worry to set in now.

_What if he's been found out as a traitor? What if he's decided not to help us?_

She wants to scream in frustration, but doesn't want to risk getting any unwanted attention. Elle has left her alone since the insemination, and she wants to keep it that way. So she closes her eyes tighter and pretends to scream, the imagined sound relaxing her somewhat, but only enough to keep her tears back. It is enough for now. If she can just keep her tears back and focus on Jack, then maybe he will hear her pleas.

Then, suddenly, she hears the lock to her door pop open, and her body tenses on reflex. She opens her eyes, expecting the worse, then watches with terror as the door slowly opens. But it is not Elle who steps inside, but the shadowy figure of a man instead.

Without turning on the light, he closes the door behind him quietly and slides over to Claire's metal slab, his eye-patch clearly visible to her now as he stands over her.

"It's time, Claire," he whispers, looking for the proper key to unlock her amongst the hundreds of others that dangle from his chain.

"What about Gretchen?" she immediately whispers back, her heart pounding with every key he turns in his large, meaty paw.

Having found the right one, Jack smiles and gets to work on freeing her. "Had to get you out first," he explains. "She has Gretchen farther down the hall, on the way out."

"You should have freed her first," Claire gripes, still whispering.

He pops off the neck restraint and starts on her wrists next. "Oh yeah?" he replies. "You think that your beat-up pal would have been able to double back with me without getting caught?"

Claire relaxes a bit as her wrists are freed, and sits up, exhaling a long breath. "Fine. But, hurry up ... Elle probably already knows what you're doing. She's just waiting to toy with us."

He chuckles, finally unlocking her ankle cuffs. "That's kind of what I'm counting on, lass. Come ... we've not much time."

Claire hops off the table and follows him out the door, keeping her footsteps light and her back to the wall. Together, they quickly sneak down the hall and into another one, all the while watching for signs of Elle ... or of any of her many henchmen.

Finally, they reach the door to Gretchen's room, and Claire's heart races and leaps in her chest. She watches impatiently as Jack searches for the right key ...

_Hurry! Hurry, you jack-ass! We're so close now ... !_

Smiling, Jack pauses and looks up at her. "I heard that, lass."

Claire gives him an apologetic smile in return. "Sorry."

"No worries," he says, putting the proper key in the lock. "Found it."

The lock pops, and Jack slides open the door, allowing Claire to run in ahead of him.

Rushing to Gretchen's side, Claire immediately places both hands on Gretchen's arm and closes her eyes, focusing in on thoughts of making her girlfriend better. Gretchen releases a small moan, then twitches under Claire's grasp for a moment before going quiet again. Claire opens her eyes and smiles wide, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Ahh," sighs Gretchen, giving Claire a weak smile of her own. "That feels better."

Jack is already busy untying the ropes that Elle has been using to restrain Gretchen. He looks up at Claire now and says, "help me get her loose! We've got to _go_, Claire!"

Pulling herself away from the bliss of seeing Gretchen healthy again, Claire gives her arm a quick squeeze, then begins untying her wrist.

"What's going on?" Gretchen asks, rubbing at her healed eye.

"Come on," says Claire, offering her a hand. "You're free now. Take my hand."

Gretchen smiles and takes the offered hand, then stands next to Claire, squeezing her hand tight.

Jack opens the door slowly, peeks out, then motions for them to follow. Again, he stands aside, allowing the two girls to exit ahead of him.

"Go, go!" he whispers loudly. "I'll be right behind you. Hiro is coming now ..."

Pulling Gretchen closely behind her, Claire nods and begins running down the hall. The elevator up to the top - up to the _real _world, is just at the end. Halfway there, she hears the elevator start to move. Then, an alarm begins to wail. The red lights on the wall start to flash, and Claire looks back to find Jack.

He is standing right where she left him, facing the way they came. He appears unconcerned about the alarm, and looks like a cowboy in a western, awaiting a showdown.

"Jack!" she calls out, still holding Gretchen's hand tight.

Jack doesn't move. His body only stiffens at the sound. Then, Claire spots Elle, coming towards him with that psychotic grin ... walking very slowly, as if she'd all the time in the world.

"Jack, no!" Claire screams in protest.

He turns just for a moment to look at her, and yells back, "What are you still doin' here? GO, GO!!"

But, Claire does not go. She stands frozen, wondering what to do as he turns back around to face Elle.

"Don't think you're getting away with much here, ladies," Elle shouts back. "You still have to come back for Peter!"

Elle laughs, then turns her attention back to Jack, saying, "Well? What are you waiting for? Mind fuck me, already."

Claire prepares to bolt, but Gretchen catches her hand before it slips away, and pulls her back. The strength in her grip takes Claire by surprise, and she gasps a little.

"Don't, Claire," begs Gretchen, her eyes wide with supplication. "Please. Let Jack do this his way."

Behind them, the elevator clangs, announcing it's arrival to the bottom. In the meantime, Becky slips out of the shadows from behind Elle. Claire spots her a second too late. She blinks invisible, then comes into vision again behind Jack. She quickly lifts a knife and plunges it into his back.

"NO!!!" screams Claire, trying to break free of Gretchen's grasp.

Gretchen holds tight, but Claire is becoming difficult to manage. Her green eyes are burning so fiercely that Gretchen can practically see flames behind them, and her nostrils are flaring like a bulls.

Behind them, Elle's reinforcements barrel out of the elevator, armed to the teeth. In front of them, One-Eyed Jack drops to the ground like a pile of rags, and Elle steps carefully over him, Becky right by her side.

Claire opens her mouth, intending to point out to Gretchen that they are now surrounded; that there is nothing left to do _but_ fight. But, before she can do so, she feels another hand on her shoulder.

"Hello, Claire," she hears Hiro Nakamura say in her ear. "Sorry I'm late."

And, just as Elle and her henchmen are closing in, Hiro blinks ... and they are gone.

*to be continued ...*


	6. Chapter 6

The Sixth Year: Chapter Six

When they reappear, Hiro, Claire, and Gretchen are standing by a great river, a deep forest ahead of them, and a vast, open prairie behind them. Hiro adjusts his glasses and smiles.

"We must find the rope bridge, and walk the rest of the way," he announces. "Gin will be waiting for us."

Hiro turns to his right, preparing to lead the way, but Claire grabs his arm hard and spins him back around.

"Hold it!" she demands. "Who the hell is this Gin, where the fuck _are_ we, and ... you'd better have a damn good explanation for why we didn't kill Elle while we had the chance, Hiro, or I swear to God ... !"

She stands with her fists on her hips, and her chin jutted out like a betrayed child's. Her brows are deeply furrowed, and her green eyes are burning with frustration. Gretchen cannot help but smile, however, despite Claire's disappointment. It has been so long since she's seen her outside of the confines of Elle's house of torture, that she cannot help but relish in her girlfriends intensity; in her pure passion. Frustrated or not, at least she is free of the restraints she has been in for over a year: both real _and_ imagined.

And, as Hiro fumbles for answers, Gretchen is struck by the thought that Claire has probably not allowed herself to feel _anything_ ... until now.

"Claire, please understand," says Hiro at last, after taking a deep breath. "We still haven't been able to locate Peter. And, we never will without Elle."

"Bullshit!" cries out Claire. "There has to be another way to find Peter! We have the painters, the telepaths ... maybe they can't find him _now_, but ... they _will_. Eventually."

"Would Peter make _you_ wait until that happened?" asks Hiro. "Would he count on eventually to save _your_ life?"

Claire's furrowed brow deepens, but she releases a sigh of acknowledgement as well, her body slightly relaxing for the moment.

"Fine," says she, through gritted teeth. "Then, can you at least tell me where we _are_?"

At that, Hiro perks up, his shoulders lifting with apparent pride.

"We are in Japan," he tells her, pushing his glasses back up again.

"Why?" she asks next, drawing the word out in a sing-songy way.

"To meet your new Master, Kazuya Gin," says Hiro simply, as if this should make perfect sense to her.

Claire narrows her eyes this time. "Exuse me? I _know_ you did not just use the word _master_."

"Oh, but I did," replies Hiro, unable to read her sarcasm. "You must prepare, Claire, for what lies ahead. You must _train_."

"Really?" says Claire, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Says who?"

He takes a step back, appearing confused. "Do you not wish to learn? Do you not wish to continue this fight?"

"We could have _finished_ this fight, Hiro," claims she, returning to the source of her contention. "We could have finished _Elle_."

Hiro takes a step forward again, giving her a sympathetic smile. He glances over at Gretchen then, and nods towards her stomach, still lean and flat, as if there is no life growing within at all.

"Do you not wish to protect your _family_, Claire?" he asks next, his voice low and serious.

Claire follows his stare, her eyes meeting Gretchen's briefly before looking away again. She swallows hard.

"You mean ... ?" she begins to ask, unable to finish the question.

"I thought you realized," says Hiro, empathy in his eyes.

"But ... how is that even possible?" she wonders aloud. "Elle only made one attempt ... right?"

Hiro chuckles. "It only takes once," he reminds her.

Claire looks back at Gretchen, her eyes full of confusion. "You mean ... ?"

Gretchen smiles back at her. "I'm having your baby?" she finishes.

Hiro gives Claire a moment to process the fresh information, then says, "Shall we go then?"

Claire turns back to him and nods very slowly, as if in a trance.

"Good," says he. "Follow me."

Hiro turns again and walks ahead, giving Claire and Gretchen plenty of space behind him to be alone. When he's well out of ear shot, Claire begins walking as well, Gretchen close beside her.

"Peter told me on the beach that this child could never be born," Claire says first.

Gretchen takes her hand and squeezes it. "Can we just ... not worry about that right now? I mean, we just found each other again ... ya' know? I kind of want to just ... be grateful for a minute."

Claire looks down at Gretchen's hand in her own and smiles. "I'm sorry," she tells her. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm sure that's the _last_ thing on your mind right now. Are you ... okay?"

"Actually," says Gretchen, "It's kind of the _first_ thing on my mind."

"The baby?"

"_Your_ baby," corrects Gretchen.

They've reached the rope bridge. As Hiro makes his way across it, Claire stops and turns to face Gretchen, still holding tight to her hand.

"Just because it's mine doesn't make it special," she tells her.

Gretchen regards her with surprise. "Really? It makes it special to me."

"But ... Gretch," says Claire, coming closer, and tucking a loose strand of hair back behind Gretchen's ear. "After all Elle put you through ... how could you possibly still ... I mean ... how could you _ever_ ..."

"Love it?" asks Gretchen. "I told you: it's _yours_, Claire."

Claire looks down at Gretchen's belly, then back up at Gretchen, a question in her green eyes.

"Can I?"

"Of course," says Gretchen, grinning happily.

Claire gently puts a hand on her girlfriend's stomach, awe taking over her features.

Gretchen chuckles. "He's just a speck right now," she reminds Claire. "You're not going to feel anything yet."

Claire's eyes flit back up to her, looking surprised. "He?"

"Well ... yeah," replies Gretchen, blushing a little. "That's what Peter said."

"What else did Peter say?" asks Claire.

Gretchen bites down hard on her bottom lip, afraid to answer.

"Hello!" comes Hiro's voice then, from across the river.

The two girls look up and see Hiro waving his arms wildly. "You coming?" he shouts over, cupping his hands to his mouth.

"Come on," says Claire, giving Gretchen a nod. "Let's go meet this supposed Master of mine. We can talk more about this later."

Relieved, Gretchen nods as well. Claire gives her a warm smile and gently pulls her ahead, still holding tight to her hand.

After a moment, Gretchen stops mid-bridge.

"Claire?" she says.

Claire turns. "Yeah?"

"I really do love you."

Claire squeezes her hand and smiles. "I know. I love you too."

"Then ... we can get through this ... right?"

"We can do anything," promises Claire. "Come on. One step at a time, okay?"

Gretchen nods and, hand in hand, the two walk ahead to meet Kazuya Gin ... and their destiny.

****************

It is nightfall by the time they reach the bottom of the stairs to Gin's temple. Claire looks up at the steep, winding stone steps with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"You're kidding me, right?" says she, turning to squint at Hiro in the darkness. "How many steps are there, anyway?"

"386," he replies with a heavy sigh. "I have climbed them many times now."

"Why didn't you just drop us off a little closer?" she asks.

"Can't," Hiro explains with a shrug. "My abilities don't work the same in Gin's forest. And neither will yours, so watch your step. If you fall and break your neck, I can't guarantee it would heal right away."

"Great," she replies dryly.

Hiro takes the first step up the stairs. The forest is dark, but anything but quiet. All around them, crickets and grasshoppers sing happily, making the scene less lonely. Gretchen feels something land on her chest as Claire follows Hiro ahead of her, and _mistakes_ it for a grasshopper at first. She swats at it, and it leaps away and lands on Claire's back. Leaning in to flick it away before Claire has a chance to realize it's there, Gretchen now recognizes it, not as a grasshopper, but a gecko. A small, spotted lizard with tiny feet and a long tail.

"Claire," she says, gazing at it with fascination. "Don't move."

Claire stops and turns. "Why?" she whispers anxiously.

Hiro stops and turns as well, just in time to see the spotted gecko jump from Claire's back and onto the step in between them. In an instant, the gecko morphs into a human form. It is a dark figure, robed in black, and Claire jumps back in surprise. The dark form giggles as she trips backwards, landing luckily in Gretchen's awaiting arms.

"Gin!" admonishes Hiro with a sigh of relief. "I thought I asked you not to do that anymore? Can you not behave yourself for once?"

Gin pulls back the hood of her robe, revealing a youthful face full of mischief. She smiles, but the grin is tainted with alcohol, making it appear crooked and insincere.

"I apologize," she says, bowing tipsily. "I have no restraint when it comes to a beautiful bosom."

Gretchen looks down at herself self-consciously, realizing for the first time that the shirt Hiro gave her to wear earlier has a plunging neckline. Quickly surmising the same thing, Claire glowers at Gin unhappily.

"Hey, watch it, _pal_," warns Claire. "I'm in no mood for a fight right now."

"A fight?" asks Gin, chuckling. "You think you could defeat me already?"

"Keep talking about my girlfriend's _bosom_ and I will!" she replies, a threat growing in her green eyes.

Gin chuckles again, wobbling to and fro drunkenly.

"Not now, Gin," advises Hiro. "Please ... these girls need to rest now. You can tease them all you want in the morning."

"Wait ... this is _Gin_?" questions Claire, flabbergasted.

Gin giggles. "Why? Were you expecting something more like this?"

Gin morphs into a tiger, who growls at Claire, fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

"Whoa," says Gretchen with a smile. "Wicked cool."

Claire looks back at Gretchen, rolling her eyes. "Do not encourage her," she warns.

Gin pops back into human form. "I think your girlfriend likes me," she tells Claire.

"Yeah? Well, _I don't._"

Gin giggles again. "Good. Then we have started in the right place. Come. Come with me. I will show you to your room."

She turns to lead the way, pulling the hood of her robe back over her head as she does so. Hiro follows close behind, but Claire hangs back, arms crossed and wearing a suspicious expression.

"She's just ... eccentric," Gretchen says, trying to calm Claire's nerves.

"She stinking drunk," corrects Claire.

"So? Are evolves not allowed to drink?"

"They aren't allowed to look at my girlfriend's _breasts_!" replies Claire, revealing the true nature of her problem.

Gretchen smiles and touches Claire's shoulder affectionately. "That's sweet that you're jealous," she says. "But, you really don't need to be ... you know that, right?"

"I'm not jealous," insists Claire, turning to follow Gin and Hiro. "I'm just being ... protective."

Gretchen's smile grows, and she hesitates a moment before following Claire, watching her walk away with a swelling heart. "I can live with that," she finally replies, speaking only to herself.

*to be continued ...*


	7. Chapter 7

The Sixth Year: Chapter Seven

Despite Gin's earlier rude and drunken behavior, she surprises Claire and Gretchen by delivering them to a well prepared bungalow perched near the base of the temple. The small structure is quaint, but private, and is made of the same wood as the trees of the forest. It is scented by some flower that Gretchen cannot place, bouquets of which have been delicately arranged in ornamental vases, scattered about the room. And, best of all, a steaming, hot tub has been made ready. Gretchen's eyes fall upon it with lustful abandon.

With Hiro still standing beside her, Gin bows to the two girls and bids them farewell. Then she and Hiro leave them for the night, shutting the double-framed doors behind them.

Claire smiles at her girlfriend, seeing the excitement on her face.

"You can have it first," she tells Gretchen, prodding her forward gently. "Go ahead."

"Really?" asks Gretchen. "You don't mind?"

"Really," promises Claire, giving her another push. "I can wait."

Gretchen grins from ear to ear and begins tearing off her clothing with gleeful abandon. Claire looks away, blushing.

"What's wrong?" Gretchen laughs, taking off the last article. "Don't you want to ..."

Looking up, she sees that Claire is not only blushing, but frowning as well. Gretchen stops mid-sentence and steps carefully into the tub, watching Claire closely.

"Are you all right, Claire?" she asks, once settled into the water.

"Yeah, I'm ... fine," replies Claire, still turned away. "I just ... didn't think I should ... I mean ..."

"I don't mind if you look at me," says Gretchen, speaking softly. "If that's what you're worried about. I mean, if you're thinking about what happened ... you shouldn't."

"How can I not?" Claire asks, her voice cracking a little on the words. "How can _you_ not?"

Gretchen pauses, biting down on her bottom lip. "Elle wasn't _there_, Claire," she finally says, "not for _me_, anyway. Not in _my_ mind."

Claire takes a deep breath and finally turns around. "But she _was_ there, Gretchen. I can never forget that. I can never forget what she made me do ... I can never forgive myself for it either."

Gretchen starts to stand up out of instinct, to go to Claire and comfort her, but thinks better of it when Claire's eyes dart away again. She sinks back into the tub and sighs, trying to think of what to say to make this better.

"Claire," she finally says after a long pause, "come here. Please?"

Claire's eyes grow wide with surprise, but she inches closer anyway, making sure to avoid looking anywhere lower than Gretchen's own eyes. Gretchen reaches out her hand and takes Claire's, and the warmth of it spreads up Claire's arm reassuringly, relaxing her into near submission.

"Get in the tub with me," Gretchen pleads, her voice soft and low.

"No," replies Claire immediately, laughing nervously. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," insists Gretchen, keeping her voice calm. "We don't have to do anything. Just ... get in. Trust me, Claire. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I_ trust_ you, Gretch," Claire promises. "I just ..."

"Get in," Gretchen says again, giving her hand a delicate pull. "Please? I promise you can trust me."

Claire pauses, then finally lets go of Gretchen's hand to pull her own shirt off. Gretchen watches, but tries not to smile.

"I'm not sure I can do this," admits Claire, standing topless and afraid. "I can still feel her watching us."

"No one is watching but me," reminds Gretchen. "And, I'm not going to hurt you. No one is ever going to hurt you again, Claire. I promise."

Claire smiles then, but it is not without lingering doubt. Nonetheless, she removes the rest of her clothing and steps into the water, still keeping her eyes firmly locked on Gretchen's.

"Okay," she says, breathing in the steam. "What now?"

"Now we take a bath," says Gretchen, reaching for the soap.

Claire reaches out and touches her arm suddenly, causing her to freeze mid-reach. "Wait," she tells Gretchen, her smile slowly warming. "Can we ... try something else first?"

Gretchen drops her hand from the soap dish and gives Claire a look of wonder. "Sure. Anything."

"Could you just ... hold me?"

"Of course," Gretchen immediately replies.

Claire turns around and snuggles into her open arms, her back pressed against Gretchen's front, and leans her head lovingly against her shoulder. In return, Gretchen wraps her arms around Claire's middle, careful not to brush against anything that might still be off limits, and kisses her forehead gently.

"Mmm ..." Claire sighs, "This is nice."

"Good," replies Gretchen. "I'm glad you're not mad at me for pulling you in here."

"You make me feel really safe," whispers Claire.

"You _are_ safe," Gretchen promises, giving her forehead another kiss.

"Are you sure? You don't think Elle could find us here?"

"I don't think _anyone_ could find us here," insists Gretchen.

"She really wants this baby," says Claire.

"Shh ..." soothes Gretchen, smoothing back Claire's hair. "Don't think about that. We'll figure it all out later, I promise. Just relax for now, okay? You deserve it."

Claire looks up into her eyes. "I don't deserve you, Gretchen. I really, really don't."

"Why? Because you were forced to do something you never would have done on your own? That wasn't your fault, Claire ... you have to believe that."

"It's not just that," replies Claire. "It's something Elle said ... that I was just like her."

"That's crazy," Gretchen tells her. "You are _nothing_ like that psychopath."

"Really? You sure about that?" asks Claire. "She told me if I would bring Stephanie to her, to replace you, that she would let you go."

"But ... you didn't."

"Only because she was lying," explains Claire. "I _would_ have, if Elle had let me. I would have done anything to save you. I would have brought her _anyone_."

Gretchen takes a deep breath and pauses. "And ... that's supposed to make me love you _less_?" she finally replies.

"Gretchen, that makes me just as evil as _her_," Claire tries to point out.

"No," insists Gretchen. "No, it doesn't. It makes you _human_, Claire. It's a little extreme, I'll admit, but ... you just wanted to protect me. I would have done the same thing for you."

"You would have?"

"In a heartbeat."

Claire smiles, then pinches Gretchen playfully in her ribs. "Oh yeah? How would you have done that? Taken down Stephanie, I mean? With your incredibly awesome _forensic_ skills?"

"Hey!" laughs Gretchen, tickling Claire right back. "Quit teasing me! You have no idea what I'm capable of anymore, Claire Bennet! I've been through Hiro Nakamura's school of martial arts, I'll have you know ..."

"Oh yeah?" giggles Claire, now fully engaged in a tickle fight. "You think you could take _me_ on, Berg?"

Gretchen struggles under her probing fingers, laughing and squealing while trying to find Claire's next ticklish spot. "Only one way to find out!"

With water splashing, and laughter reaching a fever pitch, Gretchen grabs both her wrists and turns her over, pinning her against the tub. In doing so, her intention _had been_ to dig her fingers into Claire's ribs and tickle the snot out of her. But, as their eyes meet, the laughter suddenly subsides ... and the only noise in Gretchen's ears is the sound of Claire's heavy breathing.

Claire stops struggling against her immediately, and searches her eyes. "Gretchen?" she says.

"Yes?" comes a throaty response.

"Kiss me."

"Are you sure?"

In response, Claire pulls one wrist free of her grasp and grabs the back of her head, pulling her into a passionate kiss. Gretchen moans and returns the kiss, letting go of her other wrist as well, in order to gently take hold of Claire's neck as it arches backwards.

But, just as suddenly, Claire pulls away again. She takes hold of the hand at her neck, keeping it there reassuringly, and looks into Gretchen's now hungry eyes.

"Wait," she breathes out. "I can't ..."

Trying hard not to show her disappointment, Gretchen leans back a little, giving her some space. "It's okay, Claire," she promises. "I understand." And then she leans back against the tub opposite her, sinking into the water as far as possible without drowning.

Claire crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously and bites down on her bottom lip. "I am so sorry," she tells Gretchen. "I didn't mean to ..."

"Honestly, baby, it's okay," soothes Gretchen, her eyes full of empathy. "I totally get it, okay? You don't have to apologize."

Claire smiles. "Did you just call me _baby_?" she asks, the smile growing.

Gretchen blushes and looks away. "Did I?" says she with a shy grin. "It just kind of ... popped out. I won't do it again. I mean, if it bothers you ..."

"No," insists Claire, her voice soft and low. "No, it's ... nice. I don't mind it at all."

With Claire's green eyes staring solidly into her own, Gretchen gets lost in them for just a moment ... or two. She isn't sure how much time passes, she only knows that she is suddenly aware that time _has indeed_ been lost. The feeling makes her uneasy enough to clear her throat and break the stare, shifting her weight nervously in the process.

"Wou ... would you like me to get dressed?" she asks Claire.

"No," she answers, eyes now downcast. "You don't have to. But ... would you mind seeing if there's anything to eat in here? I'm kind of starving."

"Sure. Anything you want, Claire," replies Gretchen, lifting herself up and out of the tub, her wet, bare feet smacking against the polished wood floor.

Claire watches her as she slides across the floors, opening one cabinet after another, searching for food. She wasn't lying about training with Hiro. Claire can see that by the way her body's been sculpted; her muscles lean and hard now, and her movements as graceful as a dancer's. And, as she watches her, the thought occurs to her that Gretchen did all this work, not to look her best as most people would, but to save Claire's life.

_She probably isn't even aware how great she looks_, Claire thinks to herself. _The thought probably hasn't even crossed her mind._

In a moment, Gretchen finally finds the dry goods, and grabs a box of japanese crackers. In a small icebox beneath the only sink in the room, she also finds a healthy looking chunk of cheese. She places both of these on a table that sits in the center of the room, then goes back to opening cabinets again, looking for a knife.

In the meantime, Claire steps out of the water and covers herself with a towel. Unnoticed by Gretchen, she sits down at the table, which requires sitting upon a mat on the floor. She watches her girlfriend closely, following her every move with renewed fascination. She wishes so badly that she could have followed Gretchen's lead in the tub ... if only she could shake the feeling of being watched. Then, suddenly, a panic seizes her.

_What if I feel like this for the rest of my life?_

Having finally found a knife, Gretchen spins around to find Claire crying uncontrollably beside the table.

"Claire?" she says, rushing to her side.

Gretchen sits the knife down and kneels beside her girlfriend, who immediately leans against her for comfort.

"I'm so sorry, Gretchen," she manages to say in between her tears. "I'm ruining _everything_."

"What? No, you're not. What are you talking about?"

"This. Us ..." she mumbles. "We're finally together again, and ... we're finally _safe_. But ... I can't stop ... _remembering_."

Gretchen puts an arm around her and smoothes her hair back. "Do you need to talk about it?" she asks calmly. "What she did to you?"

Claire rears back at this, regarding her as if she's gone insane. "No. No ... Gretchen, I don't _ever_ want to talk about it."

"It's okay, Claire," Gretchen insists. "Heroes need help sometimes too, you know."

"That's not why I don't want to," explains Claire. "I just ... don't want you to _know_ what happened to me in there."

"Why?"

"Because I don't ever want you to picture what I have to picture, okay?" she replies at once, sounding almost angry.

Seeing the hurt in Gretchen's eyes, she amends her attitude, reaching out to caress her bare shoulder. "It's not what I want you to think about when you're with me," Claire tries to explain. "I want you to think about _good_ things ... like the night we had in Cuba."

"I already do, Claire," Gretchen promises, taking hold of her hand. "It's all I've thought about for over a year. But ... that doesn't mean I'm not willing to wait longer for another night like that. I would wait a lifetime for you."

Her tears all but gone for now, Claire smiles up at her warmly and squeezes her hand. "Well," she says, "I'll try not to make you wait _that_ long."

"Good," replies Gretchen, returning the smile. "Now ... still hungry?"

"Famished."

"Awesome, cause I can do something about _that_," says Gretchen.

She slides around to the other side of the table and begins slicing cheese for Claire's crackers. Each time she cuts off a new slice, she places it delicately on a cracker and gives it to Claire.

"Aren't you going to have any?" Claire asks after the first few.

"I'm not really hungry," says Gretchen, still slicing.

Claire nibbles at her cracker, but can't keep her eyes off of Gretchen. "Are _you_ okay?" she asks after a pause. "I mean ... you seem so calm for someone who ..."

Gretchen looks up, giving Claire a patient smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay? Eat your crackers."

"But ... how can you be so ... unaffected? You were there too. Are you sure _you_ don't need to talk about it?"

Gretchen sighs and puts down the knife, giving Claire an almost amused grin. "I can't explain it really, but ... I'm honestly okay. Something has ... _changed_ in me. I feel really ... _peaceful_, actually. And whole."

Claire tilts her head, one eyebrow arched in skepticism.

"I told you I couldn't explain it," says Gretchen, going back to slicing cheese.

"Maybe it's this forest," offers Claire, her voice soft.

Gretchen feels Claire's fingers wrap around her own and looks up, dropping the knife again. "But ... I'm not a hero," she tells Claire in response.

"Yes you are, Gretch," Claire tells her, squeezing her hand. "You're _my_ hero."

Gretchen feels her cheeks grow hot, and looks away shyly ... the warmth in Claire's eyes making her pulse race. "Stop it, now ..." she warns Claire. "You're going to give me a big head."

Suddenly, Claire stands up, tugging on Gretchen to do the same. "Come on ... I'm exhausted, aren't you?"

Gretchen allows her to pull her up, and immediately feels her legs wobble under her own fatigue.

Finally smiling, Claire leads her to a platform bed that lies hidden behind screens in another room, and pulls back the covers. Gretchen gets in ahead of her, then watches on as Claire finally drops the towel she's been wrapped up in.

"I still don't think I can ... you know," says Claire, standing naked beside the bed.

Gretchen sees the torment behind her eyes, and almost feels her heart break in two. She reaches a hand out to Claire, her own eyes full of reassurance.

"It's all right, Claire," she tells her. "Come lay beside me. You're safe here ..."

Claire takes her hand and slides in next to her, pulling in Gretchen's arm, so that is wrapped tight around her chest. "Just ... don't be surprised if I have nightmares," she says.

Gretchen kisses her forehead softly, brushing hair from her face. "I'll chase them away," she whispers. "I promise. Just close your eyes and think of Cuba ..."

Claire closes her eyes, omits a pleasant sigh ... then slowly drifts to sleep.

Gretchen, however, stays awake for much longer ... watching over her girlfriend ... and praying that she sleeps peacefully through the night.

*to be continued ...*


	8. Chapter 8

The Sixth Year: Chapter Eight

Unfortunately, Claire did have nightmares during the night ... many of them. Once she had even shot straight out of bed, screaming out a cry so bloody, that Gretchen had shot out right behind her ... thinking at first that the danger might actually be real. Seeing that it wasn't, she had gone to Claire then, and had held her tight until her sobbing subsided.

There had been others less severe, ones during which Claire had only twitched next to her and whined in her sleep. But, regardless, Gretchen hadn't gotten much sleep herself, and is still wide awake as the sun begins to rise. It pours new light through the floor to ceiling window next to them, casting a golden glow over Claire's still form. She is finally deeply asleep for the first time, and Gretchen doesn't want to wake her.

She kisses Claire's cheek lightly, but lifts back up with a smile as Claire shifts in her sleep, a blissful grin settling on her own face in response to Gretchen's kiss. Feeling confident now that the nightmares are over for a while, Gretchen carefully steps out of the covers and tip-toes into the next room.

She is surprised to find their clothes from the night before have disappeared, and then spots two sets of new clothes, neatly folded on top the table where she had left the crackers and cheese. These are also now missing, and the mess left behind has been cleaned-up. Gretchen stands staring at this with her hands on her hips, brows cocked in wonder.

She was sure she had stayed awake all night. How had someone slipped in so unnoticed?

There are post-it notes on each pile of clothing, indicating whose is who's. Post-it notes, thinks Gretchen ... where in the hell did Gin get post-it notes?

She picks up the pile with her name on it, discarding the post-it, and unravels the material. It is a beautiful kimono, in a shade of deep purple, with gold patterns decorating it throughout. She smiles, taken away for a second by it's perfection, then puts it on carefully. A sash accompanies it, which she ties as properly as she can in the back before checking herself in the mirror.

The night before, she had been convinced that Gin was nothing more than a drunken hermit ... powerful, maybe ... but lousy at first impressions. But now, she finds herself feeling a little differently. Perhaps she should give her another chance. After all, if Hiro trusts her ...

Before stepping out the door, Gretchen finds two sets of sandals sitting beside it, and puts the appropriate pair on. Outside, the air is crisp and clean. Birds are singing all around her, and the sky is brightening by the second. After a good stretchy yawn, she closes the door quietly behind her, and sets off down the path ahead.

She can see Gin's temple to her right as the path forks, but decides to go left instead. She is hungry for breakfast already, but would rather wait for Claire. For now, the sharpness of the air is keeping her fortified, and she only wishes for solitude at the moment.

Soon the path narrows, closed in by the forest around her, and grows very steep as well. She finds a sturdy limb to use as a walking stick and trudges on, undeterred by her lack of sleep ... and determined to lose herself for a while in the forest. It gives her comfort to do so. For the first time in her life, she doesn't need any answers. She only needs hope.

Suddenly the forest clears as she reaches a short summit, and she can see Gin mediating peacefully at the top. She stops near the end of the path, holding her breath in an effort to not disturb her. But it is too late. Gin turns and smiles, giving her a bow. She is dressed quite differently this morning, wearing her own kimono, and looking surprisingly girly, despite the hard line of her jaw.

Gretchen bows back, looking very unsure of how to properly do so. "Good morning," she tells Gin, coming closer now.

Gin stands still in the same spot, regarding Gretchen with an inquisitive grin. "Why do you lie to yourself, I wonder?" Gin asks, which was not at all what she had been expecting.

"Excuse me?" says Gretchen, stopping dead in her tracks.

"When you tell yourself you need no answers," reminds Gin, having obviously invaded her thoughts. "It is a lie."

"Hey," rebukes Gretchen, eyes slanting menacingly at her. "Stay out of my head. That is not okay ..."

"You need answers," she continues, ignoring Gretchen's warning. "It is the only way to peace."

"Yeah ... and I'm sure you'll tell me next that I should meditate too, huh?"

"No. No meditation for you," Gin replies, rubbing her chin in thought. "You are a seeker. Too restless for meditation. You must seek ... and never stop."

Gretchen rolls her eyes. It is obvious Gin knows more than she's telling, and she feels her investigative instincts kick in.

Damn it! She's right, she thinks to herself. I do need answers!

"Hey, I know ... I have an idea," says Gretchen, coming to finally stand just in front of her. "How about you cut the Yoda speak and get real with me about some things?"

Gin smiles. "Ahh ... now there is the Gretchen that Claire needs right now," she says. "Ask and you shall receive, my dear. What is it you would like to know?"

Gretchen considers this carefully. "Well ... let's start with this forest. Why is it effecting me and not Claire?"

"It's not the forest effecting you," she tells her simply. "And Claire will be effected, greatly ... when the time is right."

"What do you mean it's not the forest? I thought it was ... you know, magical?"

Gin giggles. "For some," she replies. "But, it's another magic working on you. One much more powerful than my forest."

Gretchen looks confused. "Are you talking about ... love?"

At this, Gin guffaws, doubling over with laughter. "Love? Of a sort, I suppose, but ... certainly not in the way you mean."

"Well you don't have to laugh at me," scolds Gretchen, blushing a little.

"Do not be fooled by human emotion," warns Gin, laughter subsiding. "Love is only an illusion, brought about by the fear of being alone."

Gretchen huffs at this. "Think what you want," she tells her. "I know what love is now ... I don't need to be told by some wanna-be Mister Miyagi."

"Who?" asks Gin, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Never mind," says Gretchen, waving that off. "You were about to tell me exactly what kind of magic is working on me ..."

"A better question," agrees Gin, nodding in response. "And the answer is already a part of you, you see. Which is why it is working on you, but not yet on Claire."

"Huh?"

"The baby, of course," Gin explains. "It is the life within you that brings you peace."

"Oh! I get it! You mean like, the magic of motherhood ..."

Gin is shaking her head 'no'.

Gretchen swallows hard. "No? So, when you say the baby is magical, you mean ..."

"Quite literally, magical," Gin says with a grin. "Like nothing our kind has seen before ... He is not yet fully formed, yet his gift is already working on you."

"You mean his ability," replies Gretchen, finally catching on. "What is his ability ... exactly?"

"Hmm ... hard to describe," admits Gin, rubbing her chin again. "Like his mother's evolved healing ability, he too must want to use it. But he does not heal wounds as she does. He heals ... spirits."

"Spirits? As in ghostly spirits?"

Gin laughs wholeheartedly at her again. "No. Live spirits, not dead ones. He heals people's souls."

"OH!" exclaims Gretchen, eyes wide with sudden understanding. And yet, there is still so much she doesn't understand ... "What does that make him?" she hears herself wonder aloud.

Gin tilts her head, sympathy in her eyes for the first time. "Do not place too much importance upon him," she warns. "He is no messiah. No chosen one. He is just a boy with a special ability. No more, no less. If you build him up to be more, it will only lead to destruction."

"But ... if he's healed my soul, after what Elle did, then ... he could heal Claire's too ... right?"

"As I've said ... he will. Be patient. He must first know his mother before he can want to protect her," Gin explains.

After a pause, a look of acceptance crosses Gretchen's face. "Until then," she says to Gin, raising one eye-brow, "What can I do about her nightmares?"

Gin smiles. "I think I have the remedy for that," she says. "Come ... let us get Claire for breakfast. Come ..."

Still smiling, Gin morphs into gecko form once again, scampering past Gretchen's feet to race downhill. After a sigh, Gretchen turns and follows, feeling the exhaustion of last night's missed sleep weighing down on her now ... threatening to pull her under like a pleasant wave.

*to be continued ...*


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